


A man named Peter (Before 2010)

by Creative1



Series: A man named Peter [1]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, F/M, Incorrect canon events, Jewish Character, OC's - Freeform, OOC, Other, Psychological Trauma, Spoilers, Vomiting, WIP, chronic injury, oc study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creative1/pseuds/Creative1
Summary: A girl walks into the Daily Days and soon three friends skims through notes, documents and interviews in search of; Who are Peter Martins and what happened? In their researche they find that to know one, you must know many. But who is importent and who will be forgotten in history? And what is most importent; upbringing or heritage?And remember, as Gustav St Germain said- “Put aside the illusion there is a beginning and an ending to a tale. There is no beginning nor ending to any given tale. The only thing that exists is the way people relate, interact and effect each other, and how that expands throughout the world." – Gustav St Germain.
Relationships: Ennis/Firo Prochainezo, Gandors, Maiza Avaro & Czeslaw Meyer, Maiza Avaro/Firo Prochainezo, Maiza Avaro/Ronny Schiatto, Martillos
Series: A man named Peter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661026
Kudos: 5





	1. Q: What do you think of Peter?

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic.  
> Please feel free to leave comments.  
> Excuse my bad English.  
> May be ooc.  
> Contains SPOILERS, maybe incorrect written canon events and oc's.
> 
> I have some other stuff to do, plus the last chapters are still not fully written. So the pace of the uploading is not entirely planned out (look at the "chapter" 13 or Information, for more info), but I will try my best to not abandone this story(s) (If you count A man named Peter After 2010 too).  
> I will try to upload a new chapter every Friday (more info in the info chapter).  
> Editing and smaller or bigger changes will appear along the way. Mostly after January 2021.

_**Q: What do you think of Peter?** _

“I suppose you are referring to Piotr Romanov? Well… I don’t get him. But I guess that’s what makes him intriguing?” - 2018, Nelly Smalls.

“He is my dearest friend. We are good colleagues, which in itself is not a surprise, regarding our… well, no matter. Oh shoot, I have been too much with Mr Shiotto!” - 2015, Hamish Webster.

“My brother? Please, just call him Piotr! Anyway, he is foolish. He thinks he will become some sort of hero. It’s laughable! I say- You either die a hero or live long enough to be the villain. And because we can’t die, I’m sure he will come joining me.” - 1933, Anne Romans. “

I. CAN’T. BELIEVE. I. HIRED. HIM!” - 2018, Victor Talbot.


	2. Prologue I- To hear it from the horse's mouth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little girl demands information and so the research begins...  
> There is a reference to another work/serie in this chapter. Can you find it?  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this short phrases in italics/the very beginning under the place and date, because the Baccano! Light novels always begins with a small text. Question, poem, quote, character description or alike. Each chapter is gonna have this little text, as you will see.

####  _**Prologue I- To hear it from the horse’s mouth.** _

America- 2016.

_The most author would advise you to begin at the end, but really it’s wiser to begin at the beginning._

  
  
  
  


The little bell rang when, what seemed like a nine years old, opened the door. Another young girl, about ten years older, looked up over the counter and straightening her hair band. 

\- What can I…

The older ones gaze traveled further down. She had been anticipating a middle aged man, not a female child. Her eyebrows wrinkled in a concerned and suspicious expression. The girl walked right up to the counter and looked Nelly straight in the eyes. Something about her seemed oddly familiar...

\- Tell me all you know about this man.

The girl handed the other a photography, who featured a young man with almost white hair as well as black eyes. He had a bit of a middle eastern nose, or at least a bigger one. On the picture he was smiling a cheery, a bit mocking smile. Nelly had to admit that he was quite good looking and probably in his 20’s. 

\- Well…

She began, the girl tilted her head. Childlike, but still something of a predator. Nelly straightened and regained her composure and courage.

\- Well, it is quite the long and complex story.

The African American girl was proud of her matter of fact manner. The little girl just sighed and picked up something from her light pink handbag. A roll of dollars. She put it on the counter, eyes fixed on Nelly, finger tapping the top of the thick roll of money. How could a child carry so much money? Who was she, who had sent her? Why was she investigating on Peter Martins? All these thoughts swirled through the 16- year- olds mind. To buy her some time to think, she hesitantly continued.

\- A-a-and I’m afraid-...

\- Then get the information!

The girl suddenly shouted, pushing the pack of green bills in the others chest. There was silence, just the subtle ticking and clicks from weapons that was unsecured. From their desks and computers, some men and women raised up with guns in their hand. Almost like back in the days, a very old, visiting woman at the back of the room, thought to herself. The girl with the pink handbag looked around, her shoulders slumped. The bell over the door rang one more time when she left. 

\---

\- Nell?

\- Yes sir.

The girl barely looked up from her computer, her milk chocolate fingers running over the keyboard. The man sighed, pulled another office chair to the desk and sat down. One leg over the other and begun inspecting a papercut on the inside of his left ring finger. After about ten minutes Nelly pressed the save button and turned around towards her coworker. He seemed sort of amazed with the papercut, on the other hand it had been three years since he had been able to get a papercut exactly on that spot. Nelly noticed the slightly lighter area and winced. He looked up, crooking a dark red eyebrow, the other just shook her head and pointed towards the folder who dangerously balanced on his lap. He picked it up and handed her some papers, on top of it all was some photografies and even sketches. It was Peter Martins or... Piotr Romanov. Nelly corrected her hair band once again, her eyes mentally following a map of the city. The Dutch Canadian man shook his head, so much that his slightly curly, dark rusty locks fell into his pale, freckled face. He reached for the pile of papers, when the pair heard a knock on the door. Nelly opened and another “halfblood” entered the office. She waved and took a third chair, making it a circle. It was almost lunch and the midsummers bright rays created a greenhouse effect when it touched the dark interior. Even the bright coloured areas was about to be uncomfortably hot. Nelly gathered the papers and pictures putting them back in the folder. The other two looked at her, when Ami (or Rong, depending what order you want to read them. With other words her first name is Ami and her last name Rong. _AN_ ), opened her mouth. 

\- How about we grab some lunch and get started?

\- Sure! But where?

Sander asked, the three friends looked at each others. They knew the answer. 

\---

Old red brick walls, black stairs and an almost hundred- year- old sign. On the sign was _beehive_ written in italian.

\- Al _f_ eArE _._

Sander tried with the little italian he knew, the girls giggled, before he held the door for his female colleagues. Lia quickly came up to them and was about to give them a menu each when Ami stopped her, leaned forward and whispered in her ear. The other Asian nodded and hurried away. While the trio waited Seina, who had came out from the busy kitchen, led them to a table. Round, old wooden tables, with white and red patterned tablecloths and living candles. In the middle of summer. The candles was made of genuine beeswax, of course, therefore spreading the scent of sweet honey. The trademark for Alveare, together with the honey flavoured food and drink. They had just sat down when a tall man clad with glasses and a bright smile hurried down a hidden stair in the back of the room. Sander waved and he came their way and sat down amongst them. 

\- Well isn’t it the “half blood” trio?

Maiza’s gaze shot up, while Nelly, Ami and Sander rose to their feets, ready to defend each other and themself. 

\- Relax. Or, well no matter…

Ronnie held up his hands, a cigarette in one of them and in the blink of an eye it was gone. Maiza let out a breath in relief and the Daily Days employees sat down on the wooden chairs. Lia came to them with folders as red as her dress with the high slit in the sides. The group soon decided and while munching on some baguettes and blowing on spoons of soup, the information brokers revealed what they actually came here to begin with. The room was hot and after eating their lunch, the group of acquaintances took a stroll towards the Theatre district. Not as they would walk the whole way, even if Peter Martins story was indeed both long and complex. 

\- May I ask who asked you?

\- No.

Said all three coworkers at once. Maiza almost stopped walking, but nodded, he understood. The safety and secrecy of the primary source, the dealer and the costumer. The silence fell once more, but as they was about to enter Union square Ronnie spoke up. Dramatically proclaiming with a intriguing storytellers voice. 

\- Not that long time ago in our galaxy but still far, far away. 

\- Oh, wow. Who taught you that?

Sander rose an eyebrow, Ronnie realising his mistake, blushed and looked away. The girls were snickering and Maiza was mumbling something about Chez. The girls was done giggling and Shiotto was done blushing. 

\- Well, no matter.

The three coworkers picked up their phones to record the information they was about to hear.

  
  



	3. Prologue II- A young  merchant in Venedig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS and eventualy WRONGLY written CANON.  
> Jewish character.  
> Historical facts are mostly taken from Wikipedia.  
> Amazons- Aggressive female warriors. 
> 
> Bella- Beauty in Italian (Google translate)  
> Mia signorina- Miss (Google translate)  
> Polizia- Police (Google translate)

_**Prologue II- A young merchant in Venedig.** _

Italy- 1700.

_Diary entry- 5 of February 1705. Broke another heart today, in other words nothing new._

_Diary entry- 10 of May 1705. Broke Maddalena Valentinos heart today, she broke my nose. That's new. (Stupid aquiline nose! Now a bit crooked nose)._

_Diary entry- 28 of August 1710. Me and my fellas gonna find new territories. New riches, new women, new feasts, new troubles. Wish me good luck!_

He had a German name, a name who would forever link him to foreign relatives. Relatives he barely even knew existed. In fact his branch of the family moved away from (not yet) Germany/ the (still) Holy Roman Empire after Hessens independence in 1264, but before the dividation in 1567. (More detailed records are sadly gone). Back in those days this branch of Epstein's lived in a rather big mansion in the Italian town Venedig. They were merchants, who had made it and could therefore move around quite freely in society. Even move “wherever” they wanted if they would like that. Something, had they lived in the Papal states, for example Naples, would have been quite impossible, due to the restriction were Jews was only living in the Jewish ghettos. The strange thing is that the young 20 years old bachelor and his fellow playboys decide to try their luck in Lotto Valentino. Unfortunately six years too late, or was it right on time?

1705- Venedig, the city of water. Do you want to go fast, use your legs, do you want to get far, use a boat (Gondola). By one of the docks a pack of, as they saw themself, sly foxes, just entered a gondol to get to the next territory. What they did at the docks made them known amongst their surviving victims as merciless and careless wolves with no moral compass. Therefore society regarding them as a pack of scabby dogs. One of the young men adjusted his tie, another his coat. While sitting in the gondol, they did their best to get rid off the smell of heavy perfumed girls and cheap wine.

\- So how's business?

One of them slurred, two of the three remaining fellas laughed like it was the best joke they had heard this century. The fourth rubbed his eyes, the leather eyepatch getting askew. The fourth was the most sober of the friends and actually did answer the question.

\- Only well-...

\- For being A JEW!

The other three spat out. A tall one with a mustache on it's way, continued when he saw the gondolier looking weary.

\- And that bella who broke your nose.

Something glistened in the green eye, as when leafs get illuminated by sunlight, going from green to gold and almost yellow. Yellow, a very feral colour.

The string of happenings that followed were quick and hazy. High voices, explicit exclamations, dripping wet and with fierce and gigantic motions the gondolier tried to chase the rascals. Said rascals was quite far ahead and turned in on a sidealley. The greeneyed tried to stifle his friends laughter, eventually succeeding when they were out of breath. Then the young man with an eyepatch, squared up and launched at the tall one, making his head hit the sandstone wall. The other two a bit more sober after their little swim, gripped his arms. He trashed around and continued to aim at Pascal. One, two, three kicks to the unconscious face, before they heard a female shrike. Alfredo and André looked that way, giving Ben a chance to break free. When he looked back he saw them check on the third. He laughed scornfully and ran towards the alley of the shrieking girl.

She was Beautiful with her long, wavy, dark hair and sunkissed skin. She looked to be around her 20's. But what did age matter when it came to a Damsel in distress? He charged against them, drawing a knife he had earlier forgotten and plunged it in one of the men's back. As he fell, Ben followed, transfering that power to somersault, through that motion also tearing his knife from the man's spine. Plus landing on his feets. The other five had first been chocked by the teenager (even though that word was not really founded until in rare occasions early 19th century AN). The girl had had a chance of escaping, but she had stayed. Instead of escaping as one might have guessed, she kicked one of the men in the crotch, with her a little bit pointy shoe. Ben advanced to the next culprit. The uneven numbers of participants forced the girl and the boy to stand back to back against the men.

It wasn't until after the fight, he realised what he had done. It wasn’t until after the fight he released the blues and bruises he had got. While the girl clearly tried to thank him and tell him her name, the only thing he could think about was the two dead men on the cobblestones. She stopped and looked at him. He realised he probably had killed Pascal, with all that kicking and then, then he had left his remaining group. The fifteen- year- old, stumbled and the young woman catched him. He winced a little at the touch.

\- I- I have to… go.

His mouth was dry, his mind blank and his eyes empty. The adrenaline was wearing off and dull pain and merciless consciousness took its place. The young man's fingers fumbled with the eyepatches strings. She took hold of it and tied it and hid the ribbon under his courly, brown locks. He was nearly shaking now, but something stopped him from doing so.

\- Are you honestly feeling well?

The girl asked. That was like a magic spell. Spine growing, shoulders rolling back, head high, a half smile in the corner of his busted lips. He cleaned his hands on his trousers, shifting his cravat to lay against the bleeding lip. Then the young man bowed dramatically and took her hands in his, looking her straight in the eyes.

\- The question is not how I feel, but how you feel mia signorina.

The black haired beauty blushed and looked down. He was handsome and his dual coloured eyes was mesmerizing. She had a cut on her chin, carefully he reached up to wipe it of, instead he smeared it. Immediately he looked really guilty, but as the silver tongue he was, he had the perfect words for the situation. The perfect words to save himself.

\- The warpainting suits you. You're a girl to be reckoned with.

Her brown eyes glistened.

\- Calm yourself, my good Sir!

He let go of her hand, tilting his head to the side, still smiling. A bit of a pout on his face. Then he woke from his daydreaming, his motions getting rapid. He gripped her hand and hurried out of the alley and away from the dead bodies. The adrenalin was back and pushed the feeling of pain and ache back to their bedrooms. Still he was clear minded enough to look around in case any of the culprits was nearby, luring in the shadows. Stone houses, tree houses and channels sweeped by, when he dragged her up for a stair and alongside the water streets, then over a bridge. The sun was slowly setting and the pair catched their breaths. He felt the ribs protesting, the cravat had come askew, but was still tied to the lip by the now drying blood.

\- I beg to make you company on your way home.

His voice was a bit different than before, she noticed, she just couldn't pinpoint what was different. Maybe it was the swollen lip? They walked in silence, they were still holding hands. His knuckles bruised and scraped, a little bit of shame washed over him. Her tender smile showed him that she didn’t minded. The sounds of the city got more and more quiet, the sun went lower and lower, until it couldn't be seen over the house roofs. Only the afterglow in apeticing orange, lovely pink and fierce, passionate red adorned the sky. The young signorina leaned a little on him, her eyes searching for evil. He couldn't help it, he stopped, drawed her close and whispered in her ear.

\- Don’t. Have you already forgotten that your a warrior? 

He stretched out his arms, now holding her on a arms length distance.

\- An Amazon!

He proclaimed, shaking her a little. She smiled and pointed at a door in a casual house nearby. Ben nodded and let her go. Before they parted she lightly squeezed his hand knowing it was injured.

\- Please be honest, are you fine?

She asked once more. He flipped the leather piece upside down, so his brown eye was visible.

\- I’ll always be, I’m a Jew.

\---

A lot can happen in about five years. For example, of course giovane signore Epstein was disowned from his former groupe. André and Alfredo did know better though than to go and tell the polizia about Pascal’s death. The two remaining bachelors dumped him in the river, made it look like he went into a fight (with a stranger) and fell into the water. The two men Ben and the girl had killed, was robbed of their belongings and eaten by rats and stray dogs.

In less than a year Epstein founded a new group. As a rich merchant, silver tongue and handsome, he could pick and drop as he wanted. Regarding both sexses. But even Venedig eventually got boring. The young man and his new friends was looking for new places to go. New hearts to conquer and leave devastated. New stupid decisions and new trouble to dive blindly into.

There is nearly impossible to understand why Epstein and his fellas traveled to Lotto Valentino. This little town by the coast of Naple, a Papal state of Italy. A town where, for example, Epstein would be restricted. But Epstein was not stupid. As you know was Epstein rather a very sly young man.

Regarding the location of choice, an extract from a leaflet was the source.

Epstein and his friends had just been at the docks (of Venedig) and were now looking with mocking spite at the hardworking shipsmen. Some seagulls and other seabirds shrieked and flew around, fishermen shouting at them and waving their arms. The wind blew and the waves crashed against the ferry and the boats swayed and pulled their restrains as excited and anticipating horses. The sun reflected in the sea and made Ben shadowed his eye with his hand. He shielded his eye even more and backed away when something was carried by the wind, straight towards him. At first he thought it was a seagull, but when the wind subsided and the thing slowly fell to the ground, he saw that it was a paper. Now a paper with letters written on it, lay peacefully on top of his boot tip.

_New alchemists to the alchemistic academy-_

_The Third Library. The alchemists are Victor Talbot_

_and Szilard Quates. A ship of thirty passengers_

_will leave the harbour of Lotto Valentino this year._

_\- February 1711_

He barely had the time to read the message, before the wind lifted it up. The young brunet hurried after it, trying to snatch it from the nature force, but failed. The wind seemed to mock him when it changed direction. Blowing the paper towards him again, then changing one last time before dropping the leaflet in the sea. Where it dissolved in the salt water and was forever lost in history but not in living memory.

The young gang leader turned to his boys and told them what he had just read. They begun to laugh. Exactly the reaction he wanted. But time went on and the leaflet got forgotten, until a little more than half year later, when by chance Ben was in the library eyeing a young girl. Even though he knew reading women were dangerous, he just couldn't let that girl slip away. While trying to look busy his eyes wandered over the titles of the books on their roof high shelfs. He found something odd looking with one of the books, so he picked it out and opened it. Something fell out of the book, down on his boot tip. A scrap of paper, a note, a leaflet. That leaflet. Then someone suddenly stumbled into him. A big, liquor stinking man taking shelter from the rain. Ben was about to fall and backed away, correcting his clothes.

\- Get out of here, Carlos!

Cried the librarian, advancing towards them from around his desk. Ben made a frown and walked away, chin high. When he glanced back and downwards, the leaflet was dirtied and broken to a unreadable state. But the idé who had once upon a time set root, had now, with help of the reviving rain, beginning to grow. The 20 years old man couldn’t help but laugh scornfully on his way out of the library.

And well, soon enough six young men looked out over the sea with a shore in the horizon. Soon they would be disembarking in one of the docks of Lotto Valentino.

\---

A tall young man with round glasses was walking down a cobblestone street in Lotto Valentino.

\- Here you have some gold!

The man turned around by the sound and suddenly something came flying, hit him in the face and smeared out something dark yellow and transparent. Egg. Maiza Avaro looked around and saw a group of young men doubling over with laughter like some 10- years-old schoolboys. If you think about their poorly made joke and the disproportionate reaction they had to it.

\---

Some crazy person tried to walk his way from America to Japan. Epstein took a ship back to Italy.


	4. Prologue III- The Borzoi breeders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gospodin- Russian for Master/ Lord (Google translate)  
> Dama- Russian for Lady (Google translate)
> 
> Borzoi- A Russian huntingdog. Strong restriction in the late 19th Century and early 20th Century. 
> 
> "Refernece" to historical event.  
> Refernce to another work of litterature.

_**Prologue III- The Borzoi breeders.** _

Russia 20th century.

_Peter_

_The most vivid memories I have is memories of fur. I mean fur on living animals and on dead. Capes lined with the purest white ermine fur and the little delicate discontinuance of the black tip. Or the rough, yet expensive coat of a bear. Hearing the, for a five years old, horror but heroic stories of the hunt for these big, extremely sharp clawed, quite unpredictable beasts. On the other side of the coin was the fur from the canines. Those strands of hair was everywhere. No matter how much you was letting your clothes get washed, or how little you let the dogs jump on you, it still was everywhere. The most things in our manor was clean and neat (yet cozy), but clothes and furniture… My, my!_

_Many say that the smell is what you remember longest. Not for me. For me my most vivid memory will always be- fur._

A new litter of pups and a pair of human twins. It certainly was a day to celebrate and a celebration at the Romanov manor was grand. Even though they were not the Tsar family they were still some of the richest in the whole of Russia.

Jaromir Romanov had run from the kennel house to his and his wife's bedroom as fast as he could. He only merely heard the congratulations from his servants, while he run down the hall. His ancestors proudly looking down on him, his feets almost silent against the carpet cled floor. Outside the bedroom he stopped in his tracks. The maidens in their white headgears, nodded and one of the older ones gently opened the tall and broad door. Jaromir took a deep breath before entering the bedroom. Inside there was maids hurrying one way or another, carrying on various things. The Gospodin (Master/Lord) had only eyes for the woman in the king (Tsar) sized bed. She was laying amongst satin pillows, heavy duvets and the canopy was glistening and glimmering like the roof had opened and the stars in the winter sky was welcoming the little boy and the little girl to the world. He approached his family with devouty. Jaromir Romanov was far from brutal or believing in raw strength. He was not a power hungry man. Sure he was rich and he had one of the most privileged jobs and he lived in a superpower country. A place where even the weather was on your side (at least in war) something a few others could or can say until this day. His wife Maria looked up on him, a tired and milde smile adorned her face, who was flushed and a bit damped with sweat. Hence the maides best attempts at cleaning their Dama (Lady). His heart almost stopped and his breath did stop, when he saw the two infants resting against her bosom. They already had jet black strands of hair and the newly become father couldn't help but think in genetic terms. Working with dog breeding does give you a certain state of mind. Both the mother and the father had black hair, and black is a dominant colour, therefore black was most likely to be the colour of their children's hair. Right now the dark haired babies were sleeping soundly surrounded by their mothers heat. One after one, the maidens left the room. They had made a splendid job of cleaning the room, make it warm and cozy. So the family could rest in some peace and quiet. Until one of the twins begun crying, as infants do, her brother following soon after.

\---

Fast forward a few years. First came one big, but slender hound, then another, then a third, then a girl, then a fourth, then a boy, then a fifth and a sixth. If Mowgli grew up amongst the wolves in the jungle, then Piotr and Anastasia grew up amongst the Borzois in the wilderness of Russia. Little did they know that their stories would look alike, a lot. The boy Mowgli get escorted from the jungle and the animal friends he had there, to the human village by his mentor, the black panther Bagheera. The Romanov twins would be escorted by their parents away from “the pack” and everything they knew, to another country on the other side of the globe. Both with the best intentions in mind. But sometimes even the best intentions just ain’t enough.

\---

Fast forward a few years. The twins who still shared a room got awaken by some rough shaking and a candle light almost burning their noses.

\- Get up!

Their mother's voice was high pitched and tens. Now they could hear the hounds bark, howl and growl. Small calf leather cled feets hurriedly followed bigger ones.


	5. Chapter 1: Kids will always be kids.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's run through the 20's, shall we?

####  **Chapter 1: Kids will always be kids.**

America- 1920’s.

_ “Children are good at sensing danger,  _

_ still they may say “hello” to a stranger.  _

_ Children will trust, forgive, but never forget.  _

_ Don’t you dare make a child feel the taste of regret.  _

_ Wall’s have ears and minds for sure.  _

_ Adventure’s right there, still the kids ask for more!” _

**  
  
  
  
**

1920.

Millionaire’s row- a place for the old worlds nobles and the new worlds successful businessmen. A neighborhood of big villas, almost as you can see out in the British countryside, here standing nearly crowded in the heart of a pulsating city as New York city. In one of those villas lived a pair of twins. (The villa next door was owned by a certain Genoard family). The daughter was looking for adventure and adventure they got, when they one cloudy day ran into a gang of young teenage boys. Or rather, Piotr (now Peter) and his twin sister Anastasia (now Anne) runed into the Gandor turf…

It was almost three years since they came to America, still their accent was thick and caused them trouble. At home there was also trouble, their dad had recently passed away and the family's business was going downhill. After Jarmoir's death Maria Romanov, now Romans had taken refuge in the bottle. 

Then the prohibition came. 

Since then, the twins have been spending most of their time outside. Roaming the streets of NYC. And so we have arrived at the moment when Peter dragged his fuming sister away from a fight not worth fighting. 

\- It’s not worth it!

\- They called us sissy aristocrats! 

Peter just clenched his jaw and continued running. They could still hear the quick thuds from running feets and the loud taunts echo in the concrete maze. The pair slowed down when they felt the strange feeling of being watched. Unfortunately the group of boys was closing in on them, so they sped up again, going further and further into the neighbourhood. Anne jerked her brother's arm, he came to a halt. The shouts had gone silent and the two ten- years- old finally had the time to look around and take in their surroundings. There were brick walls and a creeping feeling, a lurch in their stomachs. 

\- Is it just me…

\- … or is someone watching us?

Dark eyes met light ones. The sibling gave each other a short nod, before standing back to back. Eyes searching for danger. The longed for spring sun, broke through the clouds and almost as a prophecy shone down on a gang of boys. The two groups stared at each other, the smaller one, began to back away. A teenage boy with a stern and piercing voice called out.

\- We heard the shouts. Your immigrants?

The twins stopped and the teenager walked a few steps further, while he motioned to the others to stay where they stood. Peter glanced at his sister and took a sturdier grip on her arm. Anne glanced back, a frown on her face, she snorted. 

\- What’s your names?

Still silence. Keith sighted, the boy looked a bit worried but the girl seemed to stand her ground. Luck, Claire and Firo looked with interest on the intruders, while Berga looked to his older brother for instructions. Keith changed tactics. 

\- Luck, Firo come here. 

The two boys hurried to the teenager's side. Keith laid one arm around his brother’s shoulder and tried to look welcoming towards the twins, who still looked suspicious. 

\- This is my brother, Luck, that's our foster brother Claire and there's Berga. This is Firo, a good friend of ours. 

The youngest, including Claire smiled, Berga gave a nod and tried to slump his shoulders to look less intimidating. That was when a drip… drip… prip, drip DRip, DRIP, begun. A nasty rainstorm emptied their full amunishion down on earth. Streets got slippery, spring coats wet and involuntary the two siblings had to surrender to the Gandor gang. 

Mr Gandor looked at the boys and shook his head, all the children got nervous. You could see from miles away that Mr Gandor was not a man to fool around with, not without a big risk at least. The children hurriedly helped each other with the coats. When he counted the coats, he realized there were two more than normal. His head gears tumbled and tried to process. 

\- Keith, Berga, Luck, Claire, Firo and… 

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes getting a bit darker and looked with a stern eye at the two remaining boys. 

\- New friends?

He asked, his voice a bit threatening and everybody looked at each other with embarrassed looks. Mr Gandor pointed at Peter. 

\- Your name boy.

\- P- Peter Romans Sir. 

\- And your friend?

\- Sister. My name is Anne Romans, Sir. 

The Don of the Gandor family raised his eyebrows, a girl? Well girls nowaday really cut their hair short, didn’t they. He scowled, then looking confused. The girl had jet black hair and her supposed brother almost white. Her eyes were the lightest grey and Peter’s eyes were dark grey on the border to black. 

\- Foster sister?

\- Twin.

Answered the twins in unison. The rain continued to gallop over the roof and the wind knocked, then punched, then shoved at the windows and door. Doing it’s best to get inside. Mr Gandor heaved a sigh, but nodded towards the before intruders, later newcomers, now guests. Luck and Firo beamed and waved to them to come along, Claire went along with his younger brother and his bestie. Keith and Berga joined their father instead. 

\---

1920.

It had begun to snow. The afternoons were getting darker and two black cled short people called out to their friend on the other side of the crossroad. When they hugged and their faces could be seen under the streetlight, it was obvious that they were kids. About ten- years- old. The trio began to walk, away from honest quarters, towards casinos and jazz bars. Finally the kids came to a door and the brown haired, youngest boy rang the doorbell. A man with a stern gaze and authoritarian aura surrounding him opened the door and led them inside. All around were black cled grown men, barely any women and even fewer children. Firo, Anne and Peter gave their concerns to the oldest Gandor and then a blond boy went up to them. Keith walked away towards some of his father's ex- subordinates. Firo was the first to hug Luck. A short, but honest embrace. The twins followed suit. 

\- Where’s Claire?

The only young girl in the room asked, her brother looked at the blond. He shrugged his shoulders. 

\- Father's death was too much for him...

He lowered his voice, the three other children leaned in, so the grown ups wouldn’t hear. 

\- My guesses he left.

Peter gasped, Luck nodded. Firo and Anne looked like that actually sounded like something Claire could do. The friends fell silent. Some meters away Keith and Berga were talking, a few words slipped and nestled themself into the younger ones ears. 

\- He worked himself to death.

\- We could have relieved him more, we are old enough!

Bergas' voice became more fierce and Keith put a warning hand on his arm, before discretely nodding towards the group of children. Luck went a little bit pale and Peter took hold of his wrist and dragged him towards one of the corners of the quite crowded living room. Whispering excuses to the grown ups in his way. Anne and Firo gave each other a look and then followed the two boys. 

\- I know how it feels Luck. 

The blond looked up on Peter, who tried to offer a resouring smile. Anne put a light hand on his shoulder and squeezed lovingly. Then she gave way for the older friend and Firo stepped closer. Peter had struck a string of curiosity and it began to hum, the sound growing louder than all the other voices in Lucks head. He looked up on his white haired, one year older friend. Anne continued where her twin brother had left off. As so many times before. 

\- When dad died, mother began to drink…

\- … instead of being there, giving her something to live for…

\- … we more or less left her… 

The two siblings finished their story by saying the last word in unison.

\- Alone. 

The silence settled once more. Peter had now moved away from Luck and now held an arm around his sisters shoulders. More of an embrace was despised by Anne. Firos mouth was agape, but he quickly closed it when he saw the remaining Gandor brothers coming towards them. They all were quite sure they had heard everything. Luck went with his brothers. The three friends soon took their leave.

\---

1920.

A letter arrived at the Romans villa on Millionaire's row. The signs and even the words would have been impossible to understand did you not know the code. Anne and Peter did know the code and deshiffered it quickly. The siblings were in their room, locked door, leaning over the paper, reading it with the help of the light that the candle spread. 

_ Gondole on ice. It’s melting. Bring ship. _

About a week later they got a new letter. 

_ Ship found, sail safe.  _

Both the siblings were relieved. Suddenly they heard a crash downstairs and a string of Russian curses. Anne and Peter gave each other a short nod, before climbing out the window. 

\---

1921.

They still held their friendship secret, but through their somehow intertwined life with the criminal world, they heard of a gang of rascals and immigrants. The stories told about a young man and his new girlfriend, who was a pyromaniac and explosion maker. 

The sun shone warmingly and most people were out of town on this day off. Therefore the restaurant was almost empty. By one of the round tables with beeswax candles, sat two children and sipped on some cold lemonade. They discussed the urban legend of this band of society's misfits. Anne wanted to try her luck at becoming a part of them. Peter argued that he would be so lonely without her, but he was standing his ground when it came to not join that group. Did they even know if they existed? His sister began to lose her temper. 

On the other side of the counter stood Maiza inspecting the youths. He had a bit of nostalgia and mournfulness upon his face. The usual smile was almost pained. Seina, who was done washing the dishes, came out into the front to look out for customers. Instead she found Maiza and followed his nearly longing gaze at the young pair. She wrinkled her eyebrows and looked up on the tall man in glasses. He realized his behaviour and blushed madly. Giving the blond woman all his excuses that it was nothing like it looked like. She trusted the man, he could kill a child if necessary, but never harm them in  _ that _ way. 

The girl rose and went to one of the other tables. At first it looked like she had totally gotten enough of the others rubbish, but then she picked up the newspaper on the chair at that table. While flipping through it she sat down and the other leaned in to also read it. 

\- Oh.

Was all that came out of Peters mouth when he stopped his sisters flipping and pointed at an article. A railroad accident. A major railroad accident. Luckily somebody had been framed and kicked out from his job. The siblings drank up, folded the newspaper and left Alveare. 

\---




Peter had kept away from his earlier Mafioso and Camorrista friends for some years now. That was until his twin sister dragged him out of their house, practically begging him to join her for a stroll down the Manhattan streets. The warmth of the summer still lingered heavy in the air and schools were just opening back up. The trees in the parks, in the gardens and along the sidewalks were yet to be burning in all shades of red, when Anne begun to talk about something else who had the colour of burning leafs. 

\- Rumor has it that a certain redhead is in town. 

Peter beamed, giving his sister an anticipating glance, she nodded and without even knowing it she misled Mr and Miss Laforet, who happened to walk by on the opposite sidewalk. Even though they already had the information of Claire being “a Gandor brother”, hence leading the pair to Manhattan. There was just one little detail that no one knew. The fourth Gandor brother wasn’t in NYC at all. 

About a month later a letter arrived at the Roman’s villa on Millionaire’s row. Only time and place was written.

_ 19:00- Alveare. _

That was all that Anne and Peter needed, but Peter refused to come along. Still he missed their shared criminal friends and eventually tagged along with his sister. 

The doorbell rang and a now young teenager came running towards them, giving Peter a thud in the back and Anne a pat on the shoulder. A blond teenager sat on one of the barstools and waved. The Romans siblings came and joined them, still not sure why they were at Alveare especially. When they sat down they noticed another blond boy by Lucks side. His hair was a bit wavy and he looked a bit shy, but still friendly. 

\- So what’s new?

Anne asked, she had not been as absent as her brother, but still didn’t know everything that had been going on amongst the criminals. Plus the new face intrigued her. 

\- I… have joined the Martillos!

The two Russian immigrants flinched and looked at Luck for confirmation, he only nodded. Disbelief was still on their faces, but it slowly faded away when they saw their brown haired friends' proud and excited face. Luck looked a bit more gloomy, so Anne turned to the youngest among them.

\- And you are?

\- Tick.

The boy answers before looking up on Luck, who gave a small smile, making the boy beam. 

\- Tick is new at the Gandors.

The older blond explained. Anne reaches out her hand, greeting the child, the same did Peter.

Maiza, who had been walking down a hidden staircase in the back of the room, had had the need to stop in his tracks when he was hit by dejá vu. Those young people. The girl with jet black hair and the boy with hair as white as snow. Slowly he went to talk to the youngsters by the bar counter. 

\- Mr Avaro!

Firo cried out and rose from his chair, the others turned their heads. Maiza nodded as a greeting to the Gandor brother, as well for Tick. Then he looked at the two remaining members of the group. 

\- Are you miss and mister Romans?

He asked, trying to recall what Firo had spilled in excitement about this pair he and the Gandor brothers met now five years ago. Anne smiled and reached out her hand, Peter being a bit shyer. Still quickly taking the Camorristas hand when he offered to greet him. 

That handshake was to begin the whole story about Peter Martins. 

**  
  
**

\---

****  
  


1927.

\- Here we are.

Peter bent his neck backwards looking at the sign above the door, but woke from his thinking when he heard the bell ring, due to his sister opening said door. The Russian twins stretched and their gazes traveled over the visitors at the eatery, until a familiar looking man came into view. Coming towards Firo a long lost mop of the angriest red hair proceeded, swiftly catching a falling plate in the process. Peter waves and the siblings were soon hugging Claire and sitting down with the fourth Gandor brother and the newly Martillo. Now and again Anne jumped into the discussion about Gandor the later, while Peter mostly sat and nodded. The group of four was soon joined by the biological brothers. The twins glanced at each other at the mention of the circus bear, who later got named Cockie and the diskussion soon stirred into the territory of the under worlds. Once again there was a silent dicussion going on between the Romans, as the others also stole awkward glances from each other. To, if possible, lighten the mood Firo bravely and quite desprately tried to change the subject. The trick worked and instead of talking about Gandors and Martillos the group of friends and family began to discuss the festival. 

\----

The fireworks sparked and a group of people was sitting on a roof looking at the colorful spectacle. There were only men, except a young girl, almost grown into a young, extraordinary Lady. The group of four swirled their drinks, yes all but one would have been drinking the liquor illegally. On the other hand, nowaday due to the prohibition every alcoholic drink was illegal. The group of friends were waiting for one more. It was a bit of a risky meeting. There weren't big changes happening, but everybody with a bigger amount of sensitivity could apprehend that something was about to happen. The faint rattle of steps on a fire ladder, nearly drowned by the exploding rockets in the sky and a blond head appeared over the edge of the roof. Firo ran over to lend his friend a hand, Maiza nodded and the twins hurried over to greet their Gandor friend. Soon the teenager sat with a glass of prohibited champagne and looked out over the city. 

\- Sooo...

Anne began, putting down her own glass and looking at her friends.

\- Let’s recap the year, shall we?

All the friends thought well and hard, until Luck spoke up.

\- Keith was “kidnaped”. 

Smiles spread over everybody's faces, though Peter notices that Maiza’s was not a real smile. The oldest in the group looked like he was in thoughts and even in a bit of concerne. Peter shook the feeling off himself and continued their recap of the year by saying.

\- Keith met the unemployed ex- movie pianist Kate. 

Some loud booms and drunken shouts from the street below. Probably some drunken youngsters who happened to be too close to some other drunk youngsters fireworks. At the mention of the budding romance between the musician and the Mafia Don, Anne and Firo exchanged glances. Anne made a discreet grimace and Firos' boyish face scrunched up in a disgusted face. 

The clock ticked by, the bottles of champagne were finished and the booms had subsided and the sparks burnt out. While climbing down the fire ladder, the five friends had a strange feeling these following years would be lovely years. Literally. 

\---




Anne was helping her brother tie his fly, while he was buttoning the cuffs on his shirt. The twins looked themself in the mirror. The young miss Romans jet black hair was in a short, wavy and modern bob. A hairstyle she had kept throughout the 1920’s. Her straight, knee long flapper had an icy cold, light blue colour, with silver embroidery. The hairband contained genuine aquamarines. Part of her brother's buttons was also aquamarines on a foundation of silver. His suit was light blue as his sister's dress, his shirt was white and his tie was the same icy blue. The handkerchief which was peaking up behind the breast pocket was silver to match his sister's embroidery. The fedora was also blue and had a broad, silvery silk lace around it. But why this extravagante dressing? A wedding. There would be two weddings, the Roman twins would only attend one of them. 

There was a civil wedding and all the guests arrived in the security of the shadows. The young Martillo ran over to his friends, but almost halted when he saw them. 

\- Wow, you're playing a dangerous game! Trying to overshine the bridal couple?

Anne began to snicker and Peter looked a bit embarrassed and shrunk a little. Firo took hold of his friends and they hurried to Luck who stood and talked with some other guests. When he turned around, it was Annes turn to blush. Luck was really handsome in that suite and hat and the way he stared at Anne. Peter as the brother he was, took a few steps forward. Luck looked at Peter and put up his hands in surrender. 

\- Sorry for eyeing your sister, but she sure looks splendid tonight. 

Peter just shook his head while sitting down. The others followed suit and the bride came in, walking towards the “altar” and her husband- to- be. Kate had a stunning and fluttering white flapper, with gold embodiments and a thin wail. 

\---

A young girl was skipping down a street. A girl who usually did not skip. The four men behind her tried to catch up to her. Dancing and twirling she continued her stroll until she came to a red light. Her friends came up to her.

\- Really Anne, what’s the matter?

Panted a brown haired boy, the girl snickered and fell into a laughing fit. The red light turned green and she ran over the road towards a green park. The boys and the young man followed closely behind. Suddenly she dropped down on the grass, crossed her legs and straightened her light blue skirt. The males dropped down around her and she took a deep breath.

\- Kalia proposed to Berga!

With a smiling face the young woman made some jazz hands and looked excited at her friends. They just looked at each other with bewildered looks. Anne waved her hands.

\- But come on guys!

She insisted. 

\- Woohoo…

Tried Firo. 

\- Yeah!

Peter chimed in. Luck was quiet. The oldest in the group just shook his head. 

\- Anne, we're guys. We like coffee, not tea.

Anne rolled her eyes at his play of words but gave him a pleading gaze. Maiza nodded towards Luck.

\- Wish Berga and Kalia good luck from Martillos.

Luck's attention was finally spiked, he gave a short nod and tension had settled in the camp of friends. Luck rose and began walking back to the Gandors turf. Anne looked after him, before setting into a sprint to catch up to the blond Mafioso don. Peter glanced at the Martillos who had also risen.

\- Can I come with you?

He asked shyly, Firo gave him a pat in the back and Maiza smiled a genuine smile. The three men began their walk back to the Martillos turf. 

\---

1928.

Anne sat by the night table and brushed her dark hair, when she heard curses, a crash and a scream of pain. She took a steadier grip of the hair brush and ran down the stairs. Like a black cat, moving in the shadows, quick as a viper. The girl advanced towards a darker shadow who towered over another shadow on the floor. On her way she could interpret the outline of a bottle, quickly she put her brush on the table and grabbed the bottleneck. She was a bit startled by the weight, but continued to run, jumped over a fallen chair and swung the glass weapon. 

\- Anne!

The scream rang out in the silence who fell in the living room. Anne was still breathing heavily, dropping the broken bottle to the ground. The acrid, prickly scent of strong liquor mixed with the dust who laid everywhere. She squatted, but Peter flinched and backed away from her. As far back as he could get, when he already was cornered against the wall. His sister backed away startled the opposite way. In the same moment realisation crashed down on her and she stared at him and then on her own hands. Reluctantly her gaze travelled to her right and the big, black mass on the floor. Slowly she reached out her hand and put it against the pale, almost yellow, greenish neck. Peter gulped and swallowed the bile who was about to spill over. Anne shook her head and rose, before looking around for the lightswitch. In the meantime Peter had laid his hands on a candle and a matchbox, his still pale and sickly face illuminated by the little flame. An angry red, hand shaped mark appearing on his shin. Almost making his sister scream. The twins held onto each other while going up the stairs. Once up in their shared room, he put the candle in the candlestick on the desk and sat down on his bed. His eyes empty and face blank. Anne sat down beside him and gave him a tight hug, carefully, to not alarm the black haired, he hugged back. 

\- Why were you late anyway?

The other looked up, broke free from the hug and looked her straight in the eyes. A glint of fear sparkled in them. Peter looked away and bit his lip. She carefully guided it back to fokus on her, while she inspected his swollen and tender facial area. 

\- Firo ain’t invited…

\- To the wedding?

Her brother nodded. Anne looked down and rose before going to look at herself in the mirror. Peter squirmed uncomfortable and rose too. He knew Luck and Anne was “a thing” since a time back and the siblings' differences in loyalty was reinforced. 

\- Are you going?

He came closer and she saw him in the mirror. Dark eyes staring at light onse. Anne puffed her hair and looked at herself from side to side. Her way of ending the conversation. 

\- Are you going?

She ignored him. 

\- Thank you for helping me down there.

\- No problem.

Silence. Wrong answer. The girl heaved a sigh and shook her head, took one last look at herself in the mirror, then her brother in the mirror. On her way to her bed she threw him a bottle of painkillers and layed down in her bed. 

\- No I’m not.

She finally answered. Peter leaned forward and blew out the candle. 

_ \--- _

1928.

Tension had risen amongst the organised criminals in NYC. Especially between two Families. The Martillos and the Gandors. 

\- You go to Martillos, I go to Gandors!

The young woman shouted at her brother over her shoulder, while running away. Peter stod bewildered, but soon began running too. For about a month Anne and Luck were talking and trying to convince the rest of the Gandor brothers, while the other Roman teamed up with Firo to convince Don Molsa Martillo. It is uncertain if their efforts were really what led to the peace and not only peace but also companionship between these two gangs, but they sure played a role. 

\---

1929.

It was a beautiful day. The spring sun was shining and red could be seen everywhere. The scent of roses lay heavy in the air and stuffed animals stared at you through shop windows or over the edge of shopping bags. On one of the sidewalks a young woman and a young man was walking, arm in arm. The couple was Anne Romans and Luck Gandor. Calmly they walked into a restaurant with a sweet scent swirling in the air. A lot of other couples sat by the tables, it was quite the cozy place. At least by day and if you didn’t know about the restaurant's real business. By a round wooden table sat three men, one in green, the second in cinnamon brown, the third in light grey. The dark suited man and his company in a light blue dress came to join the three men by the table. The green cled jumped to his feets and gave them both a thump in the back. Firo blushed when he felt the smooth skin of Anne’s back against his fingers. The back of her dress was much lower than he had expected. Anne was also quickly shying away from the unwelcome touch and her brother by the table was about to stand up, but Maiza put a hand on his shoulder and the other two sat until they had reached the table. Then the white haired man in grey took his sister's hands and sat her down by his side. She broke free and sat down by her company. Peter gave Luck a nod and a quick handshake. After the courtesy they all sat down and waved towards the waitress. A Asian girl with two buns and a red, slim chinese dress. She smiled and asked the company what they may want and the five friends made their orders. While they were eating, the radio went from a classical piece to some disrupting news. The most people in the restaurant listened, when their interests peaked. 

_ “Seven members of the North side gang got shot down by  _

_ South side gang members dressed up as cops…” _

Soon some new concerto No. X was played, but drowned in the new shatting that had erupted with the news. Also amongst the Gandor, the Romans and Martillos were there chatting. 

\- Well...

The only woman in the circle said, while looking around on her friends, leaning forward, lowering her voice. 

\- Now there’s even more things who're red. 

She blinked hinting towards the surrounding men, almost seductive. Her brother leaned away from her, his gaze fixed on her still. Luck chuckled and poured Anne and then himself some more wine. Maiza and Firo looked at each other and then Anne. A bit anxious in Maiza’s eyes. Firo’s face was just confused. 

\---

29 October 1929- The stock market broke and the world was thrown into the Great depression. The same day Anne and Luck’s relationship also broke and (at least) Anne is thrown into a great depression. 


	6. Chapter 2: Turning 20 in the 30's, let's party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS heavily based on original work.

**Chapter 2: Turning twenty in the thirties, let’s party!**

America- 1930.

_Q: What happens when Romans, Martillos and Gandors meet?_

_“ What happens when Romans, Martillos and Gandors meet?”_

_“ Apparently what happened throughout the 20’s?”_

_“ 150 points.”_

_“ Out of how many?” - 1970 a conversation between Carol and her young apprentice._

_“ I have only heard second handedly, but I can imagine…” 2017 Giulia Krantz._

Snow wasn’t jet falling, but still it was cold and scarves and coats flowed in the wind. In an alley a green-cled Camorrista associate happened to switch his liquor with something much more powerful.

We move our focus some blocks away, entering the luxury Millionaire's row and one of the villas.

\- The cat’s out of the bag and into another.

\- Anne!

Peter looked with mild horror on his sister, who was putting one leg over the other, straightening her skirt. He gave up on getting an apology from her and also sat down, then he pulled out something from his inner pocket. Anne catched it and opened it. She realized her brother had already opened it, she was not surprised when she saw that it was an invitation. Anne decided to not go, while Peter did.

Sheers could be heard from the Alveare where a closed- sign hung on the door. Maiza patted Peter on the back and handed him a bottle.

\- See it as a gift to you and your sister.

The man smiled and Peter who had learnt quite a bit about body language, could see that it was one of the brown haired man's rare genuine smiles. He smiled back and hugged him. Then they both went to congratulate the now executive.

\- Nice hat, Firo.

Peter pointed out, the other shuckle, tipped it and gave him a hug. All of the guests sat down and food and prohibited drinks were flowing.

Anne was just walking down some streets, she unlike her brother had chosen to not attend the promotion party of Firo. Sure she liked the guy and Martillos was okay. Come to think about it, her brother was a Martillo kind of man, but deep in her heart she was still a Gandor kind of girl. Being twins had made them so associated, so much that she saviord the times when her brother wasn’t around. While she philosophised she suddenly heard gunshots. She instinctively dived behind some trash cans and listened. There were screams and more gunshots, evidently someone drunk or less skilled with aiming weapons. Hurrying feets and then all was still again. Anne came out from her cover, still listening closely but advancing towards the crime scene. There she stopped. Speaking of Gandors or rather thinking of Gandors, on the ground laid five dead members of the Gandor Family. Anne knew that the best she could do was to walk away. The shouts and gunshots had been loud, so the cops would be there any minute. She stared at the scene for a minute more, before hurrying from the place. The young woman stirred her way towards the Gandor turf, they needed to know.

The twins happened to be out walking, when a black car came whooshing by. Anne grabbed Peter and janked him out the way. The car was on it’s way to Alveare and those alleys and streets were not made for car racing. They decided to follow it and came right on time when it hit a couple on the street. The blond woman in a red dress shrieked and the man in cowboy outfit looked shocked. A red haired woman in a suit stepped out of the vehicle and began running to the backside of Alveare.

Anne followed, while Peter stayed to look to the couple.

Anne witnessed Firos and (not yet known) Ennis fight and conversation. Peter befriended Isaac and Miria that he now recognized as the priest and nun on Firo’s promotion party, just yesterday.

Both of them heard the shootings from the inside of the restaurant. Peter staggered back when Maiza smashed the window with his body and fell unto the alley. Ennis and Firo with Anne unwittingly in tow, runned to the front when they heard the crash. Szilard walked out of the severed building and shot one bullet in each of Maizas knees, making the man drop to his knees in the dirt. Firo jumped in between. Realizing he’s an immortal, Maiza instructed him through gritted teeths how to devour the old man in front of him. The young immortal followed his superior's words and so the street was quiet for a minute, until Isaac and Miria erupted in sheers.

The twins glanced at each other. Dark eyes, met light ones. A short nod. The woman with jet black hair and the man with white hair had soon removed themself from the scene.

While thinking of what they just had experienced they walked along the river. Now and again they glanced at each other, but no words were spoken. Immortals. That was the only word on their minds.

\- Anne! Peter!

The opposite coloured eyes looked up to see Luck Gandor further away on the brink of the Hudson river. His two brothers towers over their younger brother and in between them there were some sort of barrels. Oil barrels, it seemed like. The pair walked up to them and looked questionly at the barrels. When they saw the humans in the cement, they were of course shocked, but then the plan creeped from the Gandor brothers minds to the Roman twins.

\- It’s the culprits.

The youngest brother nodded at Anne and she waved it off to her puzzled brother. They all took one last look at the faces who were somewhat visible over the grey concrete, Anne was putting them in her mind library. Then the five friends helped out to carry and dump the barrels in the river. The impact making ripples on the water, circles with bigger and bigger radius.

\---

New years eve turned into new years day. Sweets, cigarettes and yes, prohibited drinks had been circulating amongst the guests, houre, after hour. It was a combined New years celebration and 20 birthdays of a certain pair of Russian twins. Gandors and Martillos had attended. At least Luck Gandor on the Gandor Families behalf and Maiza (who’d actually come to grow closer to Peter than Firo, who the later met first) and Firo, on the Martillo’s families behalf. Amongst the guest was unwittingly to the hosts, people who disgusted their money and their heredity.

Time went by and everybody got more and more drunk.

Soon it would get out of hand.

One of the bartenders jinxed a drink.

Peter was talking about the men in the barrels with Luck. Firo and Maiza was in another corner discussing something and Anne felt left out. Really, come on, she was one of the one to be celebrated, plus she was the Lady. Honestly, the party consisted mostly of men. The young Russian beauty stood up and tried to mingle for ten minutes. When that didn’t bring her any bigger attention she decided to take radical action. With other words, she strutted over to Luck, grabbed his tie and pulled him to her. Peter backed away quite disgusted. Maiza and Firo also looked their way when they heard the little surprised yelp from the blond. That yelp got muffled when she silent his mouth with her own. He pushed her away. Firo looked with a weird look at Anne, who blushed, cleaned her hands on the skirt and begun to walk away, when someone grabbed her arm. It was her brother, in his hand he held a glass with liquor, who he handed her. She took it and swept the whole drink, he picked another glass and drank with her. The “peace” was once again settled on the party, but all around the room was people standing on their tiptoes. Anticipating the Roman twins death. The mother wouldn’t be a problem, she was old and alcoholic, to murder her would rather be seen as an action of suicide. The twins wasn’t really harder to get rid off, they were young, but it was a party, with alcohol. When they maybe went out to get some fresh air and got lost on streets were people who didn’t liked Martillos or Gandors or Romans roamed, the cops most certainly wouldn’t have anything to search for.

That was of course in case the poison didn’t worked as it should.

It didn’t.

Because along the way, amongst the drunken guests and all the different actions these drunken guests made, the poisoned drinks had gotten mixed up. And was now splattered on the floor, amongst other stains of drinks.

The hours went by and people began to drop off. Less and less people were left. Until there was only the Martillos and Gandors. At least that's what they thought. That was when one of the murderers got impatient. Anne and Peter were just waving off the last non- criminal guests by the door, when a shot rang out. Peter jumped, Maiza who was cleaning some tables came rushing towards them pushing the dry washcloth to Anne's bulletwound. Firo and Luck also hurried up to them.

That was when the girl began to heal.

She rose, got a gun from Luck, aimed and shot.

The man collapsed without a scream.

\---

He chose to save others. She chose to save herself.


	7. Sidechapter I: Let's just forget all about this! Part 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 1934.  
> Peter is a cop but "ex- Martillo".  
> A bunch of Italians meet in Alcatraz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER for light novel 8. (1934 Imprisoned Chapter Alice in Jails). Heavily based of on said light novel.  
> Maybe wrongly written Canon characters.  
> Maybe wrong historical facts.

####  **Side Chapter I- Part 1: Let’s just forget all about this!**

America 1934

_It wasn't hard to get him locked up in Alcatraz._

_All the refugees of the first world war were forced to look for a shelter, which they found on the American continent. The continent that their grandparents in the mid 19th century had fled to before them, when famine and starvation had driven them to the new world. Which in turn was discovered by the Europeans in the late 15th century. He had kept an eye on all this, since the 18th century. Now when the Napoleonic wars had led to the first World War and the Russian revolution, it all had resulted in that history catapulting Europe and it’s newest ally, America, into a new century. The 20th century. A certain man with an eyepatch was on his tippy toes. Usually he wasn’t weary, but right now with new and daring ideologies and the consequenses of said ideologies the world was changing drasticly. The late 19th century and the 20th century may have been some of the most eventfull years ever in Western history. In the 1920's a lot of country's has either become independent, lessen the power of their King or forced on the run. All over Europe and dare I say the world, there were such tremendous powers moving. Something else who was moving around the turn of the century was the Jews. Russian Jews. Due to the pogroms against Jews in Russia, many of them were forced to move across the globe to America. If Jews were moving, then usually he was too. To be honest, he was quite tired and, for once, scared of Europe, so a change of scenery would be desirable. By 1930 he was still in NYC._

_It wasn’t hard to get him locked up in Alcatraz._

\---

August. Front I. Let’s be honest.

The man with square glasses inspected the young man in front of him. The boy had been working amongst the “normal” police before, until Edward Noah had noticed something strange in his history. After reporting it to his superior he had looked into it himself and later asked Peters superior to lend him the boy for a time. Now Peter sat in front of Victor Talbot. All he knew about the man was that Commissary Talbot and his subordinates was something of an urban legend. He knew they had been associated with and investigating the meant- to- be- robbery, turned - out- ruckus and homicide on the transcontinental train The Flying Pussyfoot, about three years ago. He also heard rumours about how he had destroyed a bottle with the immortality thing. That alcohol tasting drink that Maiza had tried to explain to him after Anne left. He suddenly awoke from his thoughts when he heard the other one's voice. 

\- Peter Martins, you probably wonder why I called you.

It wasn’t a question and the older man just continued.

\- You seem to be different.

Peter kept silent and waited for Talbot to finish, but he did begin to feel a bit anxious and jittery. 

\- Tell me honestly, are you immortal?

Even though he had predicted it, it still felt like a physical blow to his stomach and he fought the urge to bend forward. The tension had risen inside, but the tension outside was also rising. Because outside the warm late summer wind was blowing. A summer storm was about to gather it’s force. Whispers, then shouts and boasting about it’s much mightier cousin who would come visit soon. The two security servers glanced at the window who had begun to rattle in the wind, as rain began to hit the roof and glass. While the storm continued outside, Victor turned back to Peter, who took a shaky breath, but tried to calm his nerves. He nodded. Victor did the same, while humming to himself. 

\- I’m sure you know about Alcatraz.

A nod from the forever younger man. Peter knew that the gangster, mafia boss and bootlegger Al Capone was sent there just about a week ago. When he continued his train of thoughts he came to think that a Russo was sent there too. Discreetly he glanced at the man in glasses and wondered if he had anything to do with that. Said man kept an eye on him and finally spoke up again. 

\- I have spoken with your superior, Mr Philips and you will be working for me from now on. 

\- Excuse me Sir… why?

Victor was quiet and began to stretch out his right hand towards Peter’s head, the latter who had seen one of his best friends devour a man, through the same motion, quickly rose up and backed away. Nearly fleeing the room. The other withdrew his hand and pointed at the chair again. Peter now understood good and well why. 

\--- 

November. Front II. Let’s be dishonest. 

Peter sat down silently in the car, he looked out the window and didn't notice the comissarys view- struggles. His superior, Victor Talbot, narrowed his eyes, then he corrected his squar glasses. When that didn't helped him, he adjusting the rear view mirror, finaly getting a clear view. The cars enginees kicked to a start. After driving for a while he glanced at the rear view mirror, his gaze landing on Peter, who was still looking out the window. Talbot furrowed his eyebrows and went back to concentrate on the road. He just couldn't chake the feeling that something was of. The other man was so tens, absent and looked over all quite troubled. Some time passed and the uneasy atmosphere didn't disappear. Talbot was not fond of being in the unknown. He was an investigator after all and as one he turned the stirring wheel and hit the breaks. Peter pretended he didn't notice, but his colligue saw through it. 

\- What’s the matter Martins?

The man's voice was annoyed, he probably already thought that he was surrounded by idiots as it was. A pale hand reached for the handle to unlock the door and leave. Luckely for Talbot and unluckely for Peter, Victor locked the car with a press on a botton. Their eyes met. A bit of panic in the youngers, only sparking the darkhaireds interest even more. 

\- Nothing Sir. 

Talbot barely heard the mumumble.

\- Martins. 

\- Nothing!... Sir.

Had Peter been in the front and Talbot behind him, he would get goosbumps from the cold and forceful blow of air to his nape. The liar heard the click and unbuckled his own seatbelt. Now he was facing his superior face to face, front to front. 

\- It's about Mr Dian, right?

\- He was a simple thief, he didn't deserve to be sent to Alcatraz. 

Peter pressed himself against the backrest as the dark eyes behind the framed glasspieces fiercly glimmered. 

\- You know what he and his little girlfriend Maria-

\- Miria, Maria is with the Gandors.

In the already dark eyes, the pupil grew enourmeus, the bespectecel man harked back and almost hit the stirring wheel. When he was able to fokus again he saw the young platina blond man curled up in the backseat with a hand over his mouth. 

\- You seem to know Mr Dian, Miss Harvent and even the Gandor Family. 

Talbot ignored the violent headshakes and simply continued torturing the other with questions and statements. 

\- Seem to know them quite well, maybe even be on their side?

When Peter tried to deny it, Talbot put a finger to his lips and stretched as far as possible inside the vehicle. But then he stopped and looked back on the mess in the backseat. 

\- Who's Maria anyway?

The mass unraveled and turned into a man instead. It had worked. 

\- You know Noah did find some interesting things about you. Things that led you to me. 

Talbot studied the other, who had become oddly calm. Maybe he had realised his own defeat? He could probably see the outcome now. He was on a deathrow and he knew it. Talbot almost smiled, but held back. He wouldn't stoop so low. On the other hand, he could almost not believe he had taken Peter in. But it was better to take care of him himself and not let him hang out with the wrong people. Namingly Martillos and Gandors. No, then it was better to keep him within sight. To keep your friends close but your enemis closer. If he could prevent Peter from joyning any of the criminal Families, then he would try. 

\- You were with the Martillos, got a feeling your still with them, and I can see a conection between them and the Dian- Harvent couple.

\- Duo.

\- It's clear you know them. 

The judge had spoken. The detective had solved the case. The question had gotten it's answer. 

\- Not that close.

Still he mourns Mr Dians arrest. Talbot wasn't entirely right. For all that Peter knew Isaac would survive and he didn't meant the immortality, he meant the mans psyche as well. But the other? What about Miria? It was true that he wasn't that close to Isaac and Miria, but he knew from own experience how it was being close, so very close to somebody and then suddenly not be close. Being it physical or emotional. In his and Anastasias case and Isaac and Mirias case a dividing on all levels. Except one importent detail. Isaac and Miria would do all they could to get back together. Piotr didn't even dare try to contact his twinsister. What Peter feared was that the lovely duo wouldn't stay a lovely duo. He bowed his head and Talbot faced forward. 

\- Fasten your seatbelt.

One tutch at the handel and a glance from the driver and Peter knew he was in for the ride. At least the interrogation was over, might as well get some rest on the way back to the policestation and all the paperwork that awaited. 

\---

  
  


December. Front III. Let’s get him. 

Peter glanced at his superior and then behind him at the sign who read “Daily Days”, before feeling the warmth of the car engulf him. The editorial was situated between Little Italy and China Town, which in itself isn’t at all precise, but let’s leave it there. 

Instead of taking Hester street, the black car drove out on Center street. They drove past houses and a park with two ponds. Down Mott street, ziggzagging and roundabout driving. While staring with empty eyes out the window Peters finger was tapping on his knee and thoughts swirled around inside his head. Why was the Commisary so hesitant and seemed to try his best at avoiding their arrival at the destination? The platina blond switched his view from the triangel where Bowery and Chatham squar turned into just Bowery, soon enough changing name to Division street, but moving past it, to the man frowning in the drivers seat. Chatman squar turning into East Broadway. A strikingly similar name to one of New york city’s most famous tourist, as well as inhabitants attraction. Broadway. But as the name suggest this _East_ Broadway street could be consicered the cheaper cousin. A street running alongside and then into the Lower East Side, sometimes shorten to LES. A district made mostly out of red brick houses, cramped apartements, tiny facturies and another newspaper editorial. In it’s own right as taboo as the former. 

Peter was reaching for the car handel while reading the sign above the door. Once again Talbot pushed down the locking botton, while also staring out the frontwindow, fokusing on a clock on a nearby building. 

\- What are we doing here Commisary? I mean isn’t Communism winning over Anarchism? 

The man in glasses tore his eyes from the clock and looked at his coworker in the backseat. When Talbot rose an eyebrow, so did Peter until he realised.

\- Just trying to keep up. 

\- Fray Arbeter Sh-time-...

\- Fraye Arbeter Shtime.

Another surprised face at the forever younger man. Said man grimased both due to the correctly pronounced words who had fell out of his mouth and the pain in his jaws as he forcefully clenched them. Talbot corrected his glasses, gave a qick glance at the clock before returning to the unfinnished conversation. 

\- The 20’s was a revival for the newspaper and today, yes, they have calmed down, but as you heard from the Vice president at Daily Days, there are some peoples who has sertainly _not_ calmed down. 

Before they could discuss the newspapers ideologic and political standpoint any further, the frontdoor to the editorial opened and a man walked out. Talbot’s shoe was about to make contact with the accelerator, when another man hurried out the door to join the two investigators target. Peter almost jumped when the tall, darkhaird man heaved a heavy sight and slammed his clenched fist against the stirringwheel. To distract himself and change his superiors energy at something else than making the car feel cramped, he pointed at the men who walked down towards the T- shaped intersection and Talbot hit the accelerator to not lose track of them. Luckely for the two men in the black car one of the men turned in on Abraham Kazans Street, while their target continued down the Grand Street, before turning in on Lewis Street. The car was crawling along the street and stopped when the man outside the car went to lock up a door in the building to their right. Slowly Talbot unlocked the door, but signaled to his coworker to stay in the car. Peter almost had a hard time staying in place. The atmosphere made his mind tutch on long lost memories, somewhere in the back of his memories archive he recalled the energy and excitement from the Borzois when they scented prey. In this case he was one of the slender hunting hounds and Talbot his father holding the leach. Peters senses had sharpened and he heard the other mans whispers perfectly as he went through their plan one last time. He then unlocked the car to let Peter out, before driving around the building. 

A man was walking with hurried steps towards a brick townhouse, unknowingly to his persecutors he was expecting danger. He quickly looked over his shoulder and saw the car. Even so he opened the door and walked into the stairwell. When he heard the door open one more time, he turned around and looked down the wrong end of a barrel. There was a young, white haired man holding the gun. The Jewish anarchist glared at him, he glared back. A man in glasses appeared at the top floor, calmly walking down the stairs and the brunet realized he had walked into a trap. The man did not calculate his actions, he let is subconsious take control. A trait who would later on made him perfect for a certain martial art stile. But that was yet some 30 years into the future. He made a sweeping kick with his right leg, with intention to force the weapon from the others grip. Peter simply raised his arm, rotating it in a wide halfcircle from right to left and was back in aiming position. The motion and energy from the sweeping kick made him face the man in glasses. Ben’s swinging leg became the centerpoint and instead he kicked up with the other. Talbot’s gun flew up in the air and clicked while it stumbled down the stairs. 

Peter pulled the trigger.

The young man came to in a dark, moving space. He couldn’t see anything, but with a life with just one eye, he had long since forsaken his sight and come to depend on his ears. Driveway, not highway, three sirenes. Hospital? No, then this vehicle should be more busy and illuminated. Police Car? Much more believable. Still he did not hear any voices, so there was probably a screen between the space he was in, and the driver’s seat. Which also could explain the darkness. In that case the windows must be black tinted or covered too. The man wanted to laugh, such high security! The light from the opened door woke him from his thoughts. His one eye blinked, until his head was covered and his sight disappeared again. 

\--- 

December. Front IV. Let’s make a visit. 

Peter did not know where Talbot went. It was a bit weird, Peter had come to be one of Talbot's closest subordinates, for understandable reasons. 

Due to this day off, Peter happened to be visiting Alveare and the Martillos. Happily unknowing of his colleague knocking on a certain person's door. That person being Firo, one of Peter's first friends. Ever. And the Camorrista did open the door for the cop. Willingly let Edward Noah arrest him and shortly after, send him to America's strictest prisons out on an island. Alcatraz. Sent him on a mission, sent him spying on a person he didn't knew about. Laforet. To the price of his friends safety, that including Peter. Luckily all this was unknown to Peter who just sat down at one of the tables with square patterned tablecloths at Alveare.

\- What gives me the honor?

The tall man was smiling while he put down two drinks on the wooden table. The sweet scent lingered in the restaurant and Peter smiled at his friend who sat down beside him. 

\- I had a day off.

His friend crooked an eyebrow and drank a little, the two men looked at each other. Now there was a tense silence. A forced silence like there was in fact a lot who needed to be said. And it was. Peter bit the inside of his cheek, Maiza noticed and furrowed his brows. 

\- What concerns you?

\- What concerns me? Talbot does. 

Peter fell silent. Maiza looked down in the golden drink.

\---

December. Front V. Let’s lie.

\- You knew.

\- Don Molsa believe me, Sir.

A right hand was aimed at Peter's head, he glanced at his tall friend. Maiza looked away. 

\- You were just a distraction, right.

\- No, I don’t even know what you're talk...!

\- Right?

\- Yes.

Don Molsa stood up and gestured towards the others. Ronnie touched Peter's arm and as by magic, they stood outside his flat. He looked at him, Peter was pretty sure he read his thoughts in that moment. Ronnie nodded.

\- Yes, sometimes it is. 

The immortal took a deep breath, the demon inspected him.

\- Oh stop it Ronnie!

The other immortal, rolled his eyes at the police, lazely stating.

\- Nah, it’s only the beginning.

Ronnie clicked his tongue and a cigarette appeared between his lips and he blew out a cloud of smoke. Peter wrinkled his nose and went to lock up his door. 

\- Well, no matter. 

Slipped over their lips, a look over the shoulder, then a door that slammed closed. 

\---

December. Back I. Let’s disgust people. 

The second time he came to, it was a yellowish, ugly light who shone him in the eyes. His eyepatch was gone. A bit panicked, his fingers runned around to look for it. 

\- Hi there Calico kitten!

The brown haired man turned towards the sound. He saw a big blond guy, leaning on the bars to the neighboring cell. The shorter inspected him from his feets to his head with an unimpressed expression, before the corner of his lips turned upwards. Smile on his face, death in his eyes. That was when he locked eyes with the man in the second next cell. A tall, muscular man with silver blond, curly hair. The most recent inmate did not see it, but he heard the sharp and resonating tune of metal against metal. He gave the man a nodd, the one between them looked from one to the other. 

\- Really!? Him? Russo, the cop’s humble pet. Hey, listen to me I’m better. 

The brown haired ignored him, something else had caught his attention.

\- Russo? Sei italiano?

A smile broke out on the other one's face. The one in the middle looked like he was about to throw up. 

\- You Maffia guys are everywhere. 

\- You should thank them, you wouldn’t sound so drunk without them.

Russo shuckeled, the man glared at him, still he quickly looked away. Ben noticed it and thought that the man hadn’t been totally honest about this Russo being an obedient lapdog. The clicking from the guards shoes was closing in on them and Ben laid down again. The bed was hard and uncomfortable and he winced, then looked under his bed. As expected, a pot hid in the darkness. A perfect nest for monsters. 

It was like an invisible finger who struck a string inside his head, making it tremble. The buzzing sound and the rapid swaying, resulting in dizziness. The tremors travelled down his body, out into the most utter tips of fingers and toes. He crawled into a ball to stop the shaking, to gather himself, to make less space for the shivers to roam. The dizziness triggered the stomach to shime in and churn in choire with the rest of the body. He leaned over the edge and emptied his stomach. 

\- Hey, you in there. 

A batoon clanged against the bars and Ben looked up, his face sweat dumped and his brown locks in a mess. 

\- Yes?

\- Y- You okay?

That only made the inmate laugh. Then he leaned out over the pot again when another load was travelling up his throat. At least the pain hadn’t arrived at the lit party just yet. Or maybe it had been there all the time, lurking in the shadows, a bit shy or just reserved. Waiting for it’s moment to enter the stage and take over what was rightfully it’s. Making the dizziness and tremors bow before it. The guard had given up on getting an answer and had apparently continued his rout. 

\- I must have spaced out…

\- You're sick in the head and gross. 

A new disgusted voice to his right. Ben squinted his eyes, but gave up, instead relying on his ears. Accent, what sort of accent? Not American. Immigrant? Italian? No. Russian? Absolutely not! Yet… Hadn’t he heard that intonation somewhere in Russia? Further east, further down. Unconsciously his eyes followed a map no one else could see, this only made him look even more out of his mind. China… China town, immigrants, yes. 

\- No, I’m sick in the stomach, can’t you tell? 

An insult on the tip of his tongue, but he knew as an “immigrant” himself, that it was better to keep together. Or at least keep to yourself. The Asian just snorted, shifted in his covers and the silence settled in the hallway. A hallway that rather looked like a ermin farm, with small cages cramped together vertically. Stocked upon each other and the main hallway broad enough for three to walk side by side. The other ones were only for two, or even one at a time. 

\---

December. Front VI. Let’s get the facts straight.

Peter knocked at the door to Talbot's office, no one came to open. He knocked again but eventually gave up and hurried down the hall, stopping a coworker as he was about to go into his office. After asking said coworker, who by the way didn’t had a clue either, he stirred his steps towards a small place near Little Italy. On the outside it looked like a newspaper editorial and for the most people it luckily was. A black haired, young man in oval glasses stood by the counter, Peter almost thought that he smiled knowingly when he laid his eyes on Peter. 

\- Tell me what Commissary Talbot did last week.

\- The knowledge of your non- knowledge is payment enough for the information.

Of course this did not help one bit, it only made the police even more weary. Henry looked down on the counter, as in thought. The man had indeed become a more honest man since the incident two years ago. Still, as the telling goes “habits die hard” and his tongue had slipped. But the words were spoken and his customer stood in front of him and awaited the answer to his question. Henry finally answered Peter. 

\- Sent Mr Prochainezo to Alcatraz. 

\- Ex- excuse me?

\- Yes.

The man in glasses looked down on his hands on the counter again and then up on the other. Peter stood in shock. Had Talbot really gone behind his back and arrested one of his best friends? He thought they were at least somewhat close. A frown crept unto the white haired man’s face. The information breaker smiled, almost leered at him and asked in a low, a bit luring, voice. It was now clear that there was no stopping the old Henry from taking over the business. A Henry with the strong belief that information was power and therefore also the belief that the one with the information, through their decision to share or contain, can control fate. 

\- Tell me, what do you know about Al Capone? 

Peter was taken aback, he had not expected this turn of events or rather turn of positions. Even so he answered the informationbreaker, the information wasn’t really confidental and some papers had already written about it. At least the Chronicle. 

\- He was sent to Alcatraz some months ago.

Henry began to laugh, while waving his hands in front of himself, thinking the exact thing as Peter had just moments ago. The fact that Al Capone or Scareface had been sent to Alcatraz in early August, wasn’t news any longer. Eventually he calmed down and continued.

\- Sorry, I ment to ask about Laforet. What do you know about Laforet. 

\- Sent to Alcatraz.

Peter began to see a pattern, but did not yet understand fully what it was all about. 

\- Well yes, but forgive me for taking up your time. 

Henry bowed qickly but continued soon after. 

\- Once again I meant something else. I meant who he is, rather than what happened to him. 

He quickly clarified.

\- Laforet that is.

\- I figured. 

Peter answered drily but then falling silent. This time the silence was loud. 

\- Well, to put it shortly- Talbot needed Firos help to investigate Laforet, in Alcatraz… But really, we do not have that much information either. 

Henry clasped his hands together and then looked straight at the other. He leaned forward, while Peter looked down on the desk, with a somewhat empty gaze. This conversation had led nowhere, or rather it had led straight to Alcatraz. 

\- And now to the payment.

Peter woke from his thoughts and fumbled to get his wallet, but the other stopped him. 

\- Nah, we need information... about you.

The young man flinched and the other leered while crooking an eyebrow. 


	8. Interlude: Loyalty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a break from the mess in America.

####  **Interlude: Loyalty.**

Canada 1934.

_ “He read my mind more than he gave me any information.” - 2016 Nelly Smalls. _

  
  


\- Who’s there?

\- You know who.

\- I’m not a Martillo, I’m a Gandor.

\- Not according to Luck.

\- Ronnie!

\- Well, no matter.

\- But I do?

\- Yes.

\- What is it.

\- Your brother.

\- Peter? I don’t care.

\- He’s in trouble.

* Silence* 

\- Don’t kill him.

\- Anne, I can’t-

\- Please… don’t lie.

\- Fine, he won’t die, my promise.

\- Thanks Ronnie.

\- Well, no matter Anne. 


	9. Side Chapter I: Let’s just forget all about this! Part 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be desicions with consequenses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS HEAVILY based on Light novel 8. 
> 
> Sì- Yes in Italian.  
> Grazie- Thank you in Italian.
> 
> Ben(jamin) Epsteins chronic condition is Chronic Pancreatitis. 
> 
> Vomiting.  
> Violence.

####  **Side Chapter 1: Let’s just forget all about this! Part 2.**

America 1934.

__ _ Once in the prison of Alcatraz _

_ There were some men starting a razzia. _

_ Out on the street, a cop running free. _

_ Though he was part of the Maffia.  _

  
  
  


December. Back II. Let’s get to know each other (or not). 

The mealtimes were one of the few times when the guards didn’t really care about the voice volume. Therefore there was some chatting in the dining room. There was clatter from a food tray when someone put it down by a brown haired man. 

\- Can I sit here?

The brown haired looked up, his dual coloured eyes met the blue eyes of the tall blond from earlier. Signor Russo. The brown haired smiled a little and shifted his own tray to make room for the other. 

\- Sì.

\- Grazie.

Ben glanced around, he was looking for the blond next cell. Russo nudged his side, seeking his attention. Instead a voice got the newcomers attention. Someone was crying out a name in surprised joy. But no one seemed to bother and the guards just simply lifted the tall man up by his arms and legs and walked away with him. Ben was bewildered and looked at Russo for an explanation. The latter only turned to the young man on his other side, starting up a conversation about the food, the silence and the ride to the prison. Ben sat silent, just listening in. Over the years he had learnt the meaning of silence is gold. He would later learn to rethink it once again. But right now he just listened in on the two fellow inmates' conversation. Suddenly the dual colour man leaned forward, looking at the two men. Russo only smiled and the other had a pensive expression towards the blond. Said man only patted the other on the shoulder and the brown haired introduced himself as Firo. Ben almost snickered when he saw the face the young man made when he noticed Russos prosthetic arm made out of metal. He did begin to snicker when he held it out for the other to shake.

\- The name’s Ladd. Ladd Russo. It’s a pleasure to meet you. 

Ben hesitated for a little bit, but then waved where he sat in his corner. Firo seemed more interested in Ladd than him and Ben let it slip. To be honest he was sort of relieved by the other's choice, he wanted to get close to the man, but not let him in. Something about him made the dual coloured eyes man cautious, something tingled his memories. Something he yet couldn’t pinpoint. 

\---

December. Front VII. Let’s make a deal. 

Peter was confused, he was so into his thoughts that his feets moved on it’s own. When his cautiousness came back to him, so did memories and a shiver run down his spine. Of all places he could be, he had arrived at Millionaires row. The place where he had grown up and become belittled. He bit his lip as someone stepped out of one of the villas. A young woman, all in black. He let go of his lip, tipped his hat and nodded. The pale woman gave a grave nod before strolling away. Something in her eyes shone anticipation. Maybe she was on her way to meet a special someone? Peter came to remember that the house she left was indeed inhabited by a girl. Miss Genoard, Eve was it? Once again he shook his head and began walking away from the neighborhood at a quick pace, soon enough setting into a sprint. 

\- Martins wait up!

A man's voice rang out and Peter turned around, only to find that Ronnie had stood in front of him, making the immortal turn around again. A knot had begun to form in his stomach. Why did the man use his last name and not the more personal sure name? The white haired man swallowed and looked close beneath the others eyes. 

\- Just came to tell you, you're not welcome at Alveare or amongst the Martillos any longer. 

\- What has he done this time!?

The immortal began to lose his temper and his spit stained Ronnies face. The man didn’t even butted an eyelash. 

\- A ruckus at the Alveare. 

The other flinched, but the blonds hand shot out and grabbed Peters, keeping the man in place. 

\- For now you’re an acquaintance to Commissary Talbot and therefore an enemy of the Martillo Family. 

Peter was beginning to turn pale when the demon continued his speech. 

\- But because you were a friend of ours, we will not kill you.

Colour was returning, still he was suspicious. Not even Martillos, a quite calm and “friendly” Family, would just let it slip like that. He crooked an eyebrow while looking at the man who held his hand. The other smiled, leered, and nodded. He had of course read the immigrants mind.

\- As long as you keep away aaaand…

Peter was turning white again, almost white as a ghost. That man got burned, not tanned in the summer. He gulped and nodded, he understood. Ronnie left with a wave of his hand.

\---

December. Back III. Let’s stay on the sidelines. 

He did not have superhuman hearing, but he did have some pretty good hearing. And because the hall was quiet and he’s an insomniac, he heard Firo have a conversation with a neighbor. Ben carefully shifted on the uncomfortable bed. Dragon… what an interesting being. The sound of firing guns cut his thoughts short. He rolled his eyes, what idiot could it be, the one carried away by the guards? Maybe. The present position was already uncomfortable and he shifted once again. 

The next morning Ben sat down beside Ladd, while Firo sat down across him, beginning to ask about the gunshots. The younger seemed to be content with the answer but Ladd was getting worked up. A frown began to form on the dual coloured eyes man's face and the thought of rethinking his life choices began to form in his brain. Then the man from earlier, the one who had spent his night in the Hole, began to quite loudly praise the food he had just eaten. Ben heaved a small sigh but decided to smile politely. Things got more interesting when Ladd continued the thread with adding his own experience of the Hole to the conversation. Plus another unnamed inmate. The conversation reached its peak when Isaac began talking about a fairy. Ben, who understood that Firo knew Isaac, glanced at the man, who actually seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion. A conclusion he wanted to hide, if you recognised the desperate tries he made to end the conversation. The other two men wanted to continue. Luckily for Firo the guards cut in and all went back to normal. 

Ben did not want to get caught up with Mr Flirt or Angry Asian man, so he kept close to Ladd like a puppy. Even if he slowly began to dislike the man. He almost whined when they began talking about cities and places they’d been, but he kept quiet. Ladd turned to him and he fought the urge to look away.

\- New York.

A brief answer, Ladd began to laugh, a bit of amazement in his face and then he began to ramble. Ben was sure he did not like this man. None of them actually and as they continued their chatting. Were they really talking about fiancées right now? Ben zoomed out. Most people fall into a food coma after a meal, the wallflower wishes he could fall into a coma after a meal. Because the food fueled and feeded the pain and at the visit they had taken away his meds, taking them for illegal drugs. He was not only an insomniac, or rather, his insomnia was due to his chronic pain, who kept him awake. Plus the overall feeling of sickness and illness. He gulped and tried to steady his breath, without taking too deep ones, who would only trigger the urge to cast up what he just ate even more. He was so concentrated on himself that he barely noticed the white man dangling in the black man's grip by the throat like a chicken about to get beheaded. Everyone in the room held their breath. Ben did it because one usually holds their breath the moment before vomiting. He clasped a hand over his mouth as Ladd separated from their little group, cracking his neck and getting ready as a Molosser hound tugging on its leach to get going with the fight in the ring. But as most sportsmen, he just had to hold a little speech before entering the stage. An encouraging, yet mysterious message to his loyal followers. In this case very confused Firo, clueless Isaac and barely noticing Ben. And so the silver haired champion was about to enter the ring, advancing towards the big, coloured buff and the white guy fighting for his life, as guards began forming a circle around the same pair. As they called out warnings, Ladd ignored them. Ben had in the ruckus and attention at the two opposite coloured chess pieces, drawn back from the crowd to search for a trashcan. The man was still wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, as Gig, the black guy curled up on the floor and Bens former hope in this prison, leaned down and spoke to the fallen. The fallen flew for a second or two, but a human is not meant to fly on its own, so he soon crashed into some guards, a table and then the floor. The invalid clenched his jaw and fist, not to keep down any more bile, but his anger and annoyance of this man who seemed to play around and think he was so special. He glared after him as the guards took him away, then glancing at “his fellow New Yorkers”. Firo was trying to keep Isaac quiet, good luck with that buddy, Ben mumbled to himself, while the young man also seemed to ponder something. The man with dual eye colors was done with that duo and silently advanced further away from them. Therefore he did not notice Firos bloody palms cleaning themself. 

\---

December. Front VIII. Let’s make a mistake. 

At an uncertain destination another man began to get tired of his former hope. This man was not alone, Peter discreetly glanced at Noah and then at Sullivan who was speaking to their boss, Victor Talbot himself. Peter frowned when he thought of what a delight that announcement would evoke in the other. How could he ever have admired that man. Or had it ever been admiration, hadn’t it been fear since the moment he heard of the Flying pussyfoot, the spilled immortality drink and the right hand who had close upon reached his head. The last fact was a secret between the spectacle cled man and the most recent subordinate. A secret that tied them closer than any other pair in this line of business. Talbot was the one who had the upper hand by far. More exactly approximately by 220 years ahead of the now four-year- old immortal. A name caught his attention. Prochainezo. He gave Talbot a pleading look, with something burning behind the puppy eyes. Talbot was clever enough to understand that the man was about to fall in between the chairs of cop and criminal. The man for once felt pity and nodded towards the other, who gave a short nod of courtesy and left the room. Sullivan and Noah exchanged looks, but went back to the subject at hand. The subject who had shifted from one green cled Camorrista to an organisation to be reckoned with- Nebula.

But where would a man like Peter go? He couldn’t stand a minute more with Talbot, a man who had arrested one of his best friends, turning former friends to enemies. And taken away every permission for him to make a visit at Alveare. Where did he belong now? The man began to walk aimlessly, barely butting an eye towards some peoples in Madison square park. He recognised the lady in black though and saw a redhead by her side. So she was going to meet her special someone. At least he had made something right. At that very moment he realized that he had made a big mistake. 

\---

December. Back IV. Let’s be resistant. 

It almost looked like a pillow fort made by a kid, but instead of pillows there was only one pillow and a human body. One hand had sneaked around his body and was holding the tender area under his left rib cage, the other over the ear who was not pressed against the bed. Good hearing did have its downsides, especially when you had Mr Flirt and an angry Asian as neighbors. By the first clang he peaked over the edge of the covers at Ladds cell, before remembering he was still in the Hole. By the second clang he looked at the port to his cell. Two guards, one with a baton in his hand, the other with some keys. One of the keys began to twist around and the two men came into the cell. Ben as usual, listened rather than saw. The one with the baton took hold of the inmates arm and yanked him up from the bed. Bens teeths almost punctuated his lip as the pain bloomed inside him. He yanked free, green eye glowing, while the brown one was close to dull in luster. The man was about to take hold of him again, when he saw the eyes and how the other bit his lower lip in concentration, the same way as one let the tip of their tongue be visible when thinking. The guard with the keys closed in, Ben closed his eyes, pulled his shoulders up, hunched, head between shoulders, close to his chest. The men came closer. At the moment one of the guards reached out his hand, the other lifting his baton to hit Ben's head, said man shot forward, stretched, hands formed as feline paws with their claws out. He crashed into the one without a baton, began to make a somersault, but let himself fall on the side, taking the fallen guards baton with him and parrying the others baton. With his feets under him, still on his back he shot up, coming closer to the other. The other guard he had stolen the baton from, had hit his head to the concrete hard and was out of the game. Ben focused on the one he was fighting with right now and he sure was better than his fellow coworker. At the same time, he could faraway hear arriving guards over the shouts and cheers from neighboring cellmates. The man meant to hit him in the right side, so he jumped and threw himself that way. Keeping his feets in the air, throwing the baton in his hand at the man, landing on his hands. The baton hit the guard in the head. The brown haired flipped to his feets, listening closely and closed his eyes when a flashlight shone him right in the face. In reflex he closed his eyes, steeled his arm and made a circulating motion in front of him. You would have no problem with hearing him say “work” in that very moment, like the female leads in a musical from early 2015. While doing this motion, his right side followed and his left leg went up, his right one becoming the centerpoint. Finally it seemed like he had gotten the respect from the Asian guy next cell. The man loudly cheered him on in Chinese, before a guard slammed his baton at his cell. It was when he had his back against the open door to his cell that he felt the sharp pain in his back. Something warm flowing and filling up his right lung. Shortly after he collapsed, blood flowing from his mouth and the bullet wound penetrated his right lung. 

\---

December. Front IX. Let’s ignore a lot of important stuff around us. 

Peter was running. For the time being he had missed the phone call, the explosion and his superiors rare concern for his subordinates. Unknowingly he continued to run. This time he did not notice the ones in the park and that was quite the big mistake. Then he suddenly ran into someone, a blond man. In the hurry the man recognized the white haired and touched his shoulder. Teleporting him to Millionaires row. At the exact moment a man with a bandana and a woman with a staff on her back rang the doorbell to the villa who neighboured his childhood home. Peter looked around frustrated and bewildered, before continuing to run. Ronnie clenched his fists.

\- Well, no matter.

For a second Peter stopped, had he heard Ronnie? That would explain why he was on the totally wrong street, but when he looked around for the man, he was gone. Now it was Peter's turn to clench his fists, but he continued to run. In the new right direction. 

Now he had missed the phone call, the explosion, his superiors rare concerns about his subordinates, Chaine and the two Felix’s in Madison square park and Laforet's subordinates, Tim and Adele, who were to visit Jacuzzi and gang in Genoards villa. 

\---

December. Back V. Let’s have a job interview. 

Ben came to in a big but spartane room. At first he didn’t think it was a cell, but when he saw the closed door and heard the rattle from keys on the other side of the door, he understood that it was indeed a cell. He realized he lay on a bed and he bit his lip as the wood burnt his shoulders and back. 

\- My, my you _are_ a fighter.

The brown haired looked towards the sound and eventually sat up. On a chair sat a man with black hair and yellow eyes. He had crossed his legs and seemed to inspect the guest. Ben inspected him too, somehow the man was oddly familiar. The man untangled his legs and rose, coming closer to the one on the bed, before sitting down beside him. He glanced at him sideways, he was tense, ready to spring to action again. At the same time he looked collected and relaxed enough to not waste his energy. Laforet took it all in with interest. Silence fell and so the inmate of the cell jabbed his fingers into the left side of the man next to him. Somehow Ben had not expected that and he gasped while bending forward. On a normal person this action would of course hurt and even leave a bit of pain afterward, but for Ben it was much, much worse… You see our brown haired, Jewish anarchist with dual coloured eyes was (is) also suffering a chronic condition. A condition whose acute form had been discovered on autopsy in the last year of the 19th century. But his, the chronic condition, was yet to be pinpointed until after the second war. Whos in turn had yet to begin for a little less than another five years. 

The invalid had fallen to the floor and lay gasping for air in a tight ball, shivering from pain and dizziness. His culprits eyes looked down on him and the dark haired man shook his head. 

\- Well, I guess you do.

\- Wh- at?...

\- I thought you had good ears. 

Taunted Laforet and Ben tried to unfold himself, slowly. 

\- My sources tell me that you are immortal and an adrenaline junkie.

Ben frowned as his mouth got a sour taste, with quite panicked eyes he looked around for somewhere to throw up. Then it struck him that he did not like this person and he just began to retch on the spot. The source of his dislike almost smiled, he enjoyed this test subject and was now determined to make him his. The guards outside the cell stomped a little nervously as the reek spread and made them uneasy. Huay paid them no heed, but kept his eyes on the kneeling man with his hands on the concrete. Those hands who were now stained with his own bile. The man stood up, dried his hands on his pants and stared at the man in white. He only smiled back at the glowing, almost yellow former green eye. 

\- I am sure you know who I am. I even think that you remember me. 

Silence. He was a handsome young man, but he was an easily bored young man. And as far as Ben knew, this man in front of him was a man who could offer him action. Plus, if he really got bored he could just eat him, or maybe… Ben shook his head almost cursing for thinking like that. His eyes had wandered away while he pondered, now they returned to look at the other immortal. 

\- Very clever of you, but as your sources probably also have told you, I am no one to be owned. 

\- I can see in your eyes though, the intrigue you know I can offer you. 

\- You have nothing to threaten me with.

\- No, so why are you reluctant?

The younger man went quiet, his mind was torn. If the saying was true about two Jews, three opinions, the logical consequence would be one Jew two opinions. That was exactly what was going on inside Ben at the moment. Everything pointed at the fact that he would draw benefits from being acquainted with Mr Laforet and whatever he was doing. Ben did not know a big amount about the man and who did, but he did know that the man was extremely powerful, extremely clever and extremely insane. Ben almost shuckled at the thought and fixed his gaze on the spider in the web. A web the young man refused to get stuck in. The white cled, black haired man had once again sat down in the chair, with one leg over the other. Awaiting the others' response. 

\- I have no better to do. 

His voice was bored, he stretched and sat down on the bed, wrinkling his nose at the bile on the floor. Laforet smiled and the guards opened the door to get the brown haired man. 

\- One last thing… You're on the sideline for now, but I contact you when I need you. 

\- Your sneaky little!...

There was a thud when the baton hit the skull and the rioter fell to the ground. 

\---

December. Front X. Let’s stand our ground.

Peter sat in his office, his face in his hands, until he collapsed unto the desk. That was when it knocked on his door. He quickly sat up and dried his face, turning around in his office chair and called out that it was just to open the door. Into the office walked Commissary Talbot. The white haired young cop froze and kept his eyes on his superior. He knew the man had just come back after the meeting at NYPD police station about the explosion he missed, while walking on Millionaires row. The man hadn’t called him, he came to visit himself. Without a word he sat down in a spare chair, corrected his glasses and stared down the subordinate. Peter swallowed. 

\- I give you one last chance. 

Peter knew he only got it because of his being. He looked away and was about to turn around in his chair. 

\- Tell me, have you made any deal with the Martillos?

Silence.

\- Answer!

\- Yes and no.

The other crooked an eyebrow and leaned forward, eyes flashing.

\- Don’t play games Martins. 

He almost leered at the threat, for once he had the upper hand, he had the information. He for once was the one with the power, not the failure. Talbot was losing his temper, swallowed, took a deep breath and stared at him. Peter knew he “couldn’t” lose his job, so he kept silent, he had nothing to lose. In fact, he had more to gain if he kept persistent. Talbot gave him one last frown, before abruptly raising from the seat and leaving the room. Peter who had been tense during the whole visit, now slumped back into his chair, burying his face in his hands again. 


	10. Side chapter  II: The world is grey, the hero a green eyed man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OBS: All names and characters are fictional in this chapter.  
> Yes, there is real historical events in this chapter, named or just hinted at, but all names are fictivesly used. Any resemblence to people who did die in any of the events are unintentional.

####  **Side chapter II: The world is grey, the hero a green eyed man.**

Europe- 1944.

_2 Mars- Salerno. 18 May- Monte Casino._

_Epstein Benjamin. Allegro Adriano_

_Ferrari Emilia. Bianco Dante_

_Moretti Carina Epstein Benjamin_

_Regio Leonardo Guerra Flavio_

_Romano Carlo. Ville Luigi_

_10 June- Oradour-sur-Glane. 11 September- Darmstadt_

Alemand Maxim. _Berger Dieter_

Bourdeux Chanel _Epstein Benjamin_

Cabrette Hugo. _Horn Giulia_

Epstein Benjamin. _Müller_ _Frans_

Jardine Esme. _Vogel Ella_

The sun shone over a grey landscape. It shone bright and a mild wind was caressing the outsides of the buildings. Some bits of textile waved like flags, but it was ghostly quiet. No birds sang this April morning, no children were already on their way to school. Now the wind could rather be seen as a spirit or supernatural being hunting amongst the ruins and empty buildings. In the quiet a klanking was heard when a bit of fallen wall, rose and slid jumping down a pile of scrap. Then in the midst of grey materials, either sharp or exploded to dust, something smooth and yellowish could be seen. And so it began to twitch. Some more concrete rushed down the mountain of fragmented walls. Something moved under the rubbles, it spread its wings, while leaning back as a whale who jumped out of the big, dark, blue. For a minute he let his back lean against the remaining of the pile, looking up to the sky. He rubbed his eyes, but only made them more dirty and irritated. After a short breather he sat up, the pain in his back forced him. He leaned the opposite way, folding in on himself while gritting his teeths. With the highest concentration and determination he forced his hands to pick, push and shove the stones off his legs. The brownhaird boy dusted off the brown trousers, took charge and stood up on wobbly feets. Immediately falling forward and scratched his hands and hit his ribs hard against the pointy, uneven, but very solid ground. He cursed with the little air he had left after the hit to his chest. The hands began to burn and the lungs ached as they craved oxygen. His stomach joined in, sending sharp waves to his back and throughout his body. The neighborhood was rinsed on bones, riches and soldiers, so nobody heard his cries. Through gasping and panting he tried to bring some of the necessary "gas" flowing in his system, but the containers protested even the smallest expansion. He held his breath until it burnt and then it didn’t. 

\---

Gunshots rang out, the stomping of hundreds and hundreds of boots. The man with dual coloured eyes tied his eyepatch, unraveled his badge and unsecured his gun. The men and women behind him nodded. He took a deep breath, his green eye glowed. He was ready, because they were ready. Ready to die for their freedom. 


	11. Chapter 4: Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAYOR changes may appear in this chapter, mayor as in totally rewriting the chapter. Stay updated.  
> In case of changing the "original" version of the chapter, the original version may be posted in a short story Collection I'm working on. (With some other chapters/ fillerchapters and deleted scenes, also a Holiday special who hopefully will also be posted on it's own the next New Years eve, becouse it takes place two years after "A man named Peter- After 2010" and I'm not done with "After 2010").

_**Chapter 4: Escape.** _

1969/1970.

_“Celestia was all but heavenly…” - 2000 Peter Martins._

1970. **** ~~~~

A middle aged woman walked up to a office desk where a young man, not much older than a boy sat, looking through a folder, comparing the texts with some other papers who lay on the table.

\- So, what have you found?

\- People are moving…

The man began, he quickly shut his mouth when his superior held up one finger. The next words made him look down on the papers, his mind searching for an answer, that seemingly was nonexistent. Or at least on these papers.

\- 20 points.

\- Out of how many?

Yes, he was almost a grown man by now, still this routine, this “system” had been trained into him. The same way it had been his superior when she was little. After close reading his papers for fifteen minutes, he looked up on the woman. A bit of pleading in his eyes. The woman with light brown, short hair, sat down in a chair by his side. Calmly she was letting her eyes gaze over the words, instinctively looking for keywords.

\- People are always moving around. Can you tell me... hmm, two in particular?

\- … Mr Martins?... Um…

\- 100 points.

\- And… Please give me a clue.

The young man knew that he was on the right path. Usually a hundred points was pretty good. But who could the second person be? All of his attention was on his mentor, she only tapped with her finger on the papers. His eyes followed the fingertip, but it made no sense. He read it through one more time. Now he was getting nervous, then she spoke up.

\- Competition.

He flinched and looked with unbelieving eyes on her.

\- Mr Avaro?

\- 50 points.

It was neither right nor wrong.

\---

1969.

The small car backed into the parking lot and a loud sight almost echoed around in the neighborhood. The tall man who wobbled out of the car had had a long and tiresome day for sure. He stretched, it would be so good to get some rest. Except in case another case needed to be solved. But what do you not do for justice and security? It was long since dark, even more so when the clouds covered the stars and the moon. The man was about to force his feets to lift and step up on the steps of the stair, one at a time. It would be a challenge to lock up his door, his fingers itched, his whole body and mind anticipated the warmth and calm of a home. Then he saw it, something who was more or less thrown on the stairs. It looked like a big, black garbage bag. The man pushed up his square glasses and frowned. Who was it this time who disliked him and threw their trash on his property? He took a steady grip of the slippery plastic, but it was heavy. Sure he had muscles, but he was tired and slowly, but fueled by his anger he began to drag the bag. The gravity helped him when it bumped down the concrete stairs. In his haze of exhaustion, the sound of a human in pain, was not far from missed. Victor recoiled and stared down at his hands, whish were shaking. With his trembling fingers he fumbled with the knot, then tried to just tear the sack. It couldn’t be plastic, it would give way for forcefully stabbing and prodding fingers. When his keys were useless too and the one inside seemed to be somewhat aware of what was going on, he picked up his pocket knife. Carefully to not hurt the one inside, he began to cut the material. There was not a streetlight close enough to make the being more visible than the black garbage bag who had surrounded it. Victor ran to his car to get a flashlight and when he returned he squatted and shone the light a little to the right from where he expected the bag to be. The sight forced him to jib. Slowly he came closer again.

\- M- ister Tal…

And Peter’s consciousness was gone.

The young man was dressed in simple, covering clothes. Talbot bit down on his flashlight and picked up the other in his arms. A bit of adrenalin and his sense of justice gave him the strength. And so it came to pass, that the commissary carried his young suburbanite into his home and lay him down on his sofa. The boy may be immortal, but immortals could still be poisoned and tired. Some injuries or illnesses were harder to recover from, even for an immortal. Quick and professional fingers eased off his shirt and the older gasped. The pale skin wasn’t so pale anymore. It was like a map painted on an old, yellowish paper. Roads made out of gravelly, red granite pebbles, smooth trails in finest, whitest sand. Dark, stitched railroads. Yellow, greenish fields, here and there lavendel and flax fields as seas, or was it ponds and abysmal wells? Red spots of poppy’s or roses. Burns who looked like open flowers, reaching for the sun who burnt them. Victor could barely think of the internal injuries. He reached for the telephone and spun the number tablet, before listening close.

\- An injured immortal, yes.

He quickly described the situation in short terms and then went to watch over the boy again. That was when he discovered something strange with the others left arm. But he thought it better to leave it to the doctor to investigate.

Soon enough a smaller truck parked outside Mr Talbot's house and two men came up to get the still unconscious Martins.

\---

A few days later.

\- Are you serious?

The tall man in glasses nodded, while the white haired gave him a distrusting look. He meant to stretch, but his left arm refused to respond. He looked at it with a bewildered face and then gave the same to the man who sat on the edge of his bed.

\- Yes, that too.

The man had now furrowed his brows and looked to be in thoughts. Peter was about to touch his arm when a stern, almost cold voice called out.

\- Don’t touch it, Mr Martins.

The two men in the room looked up on the third and Maiza was about to rise, but the man gestured to him that he could sit down. The man did look like the Grey magician, for those who had met him on the Flying pussyfoot about 30 years ago and it really wasn’t a surprise when he was indeed family with the man. Dr “Fred”, as we have to call him, how honoring, or dishonoring it may be, sat down on a chair by the bed. He held a folder in his hands, carefully flipping through the papers and notes.

\- You looked pretty horrible five days ago.

The man in question nodded, small glimpses of memories remained. He pushed them away for the time being, keeping his attention on the doctor.

\- Both internal and external injuries are gone… as expected.

The two immortals looked at each other with smug faces and then back at the medical professional.

\- Poison, drugs and other lethal or harming substances have dissolved.

Peter was swallowing when memories flooded his brain, he must have closed his eyes, because Maiza squeezed his hand to bring him back to safety. Dr “Fred” flipped through his papers and then took a deep breath. As a doctor or nurse may do when giving either the patient or their loved ones a death sentence. This raised a feeling of unease and questions. He was immortal, so why did the man act like it was something terminal going on? Peter glanced at Maiza who gave him the same unknowing look.

The three men looked up when they heard a knock on the door and the doctor went to open. In the doorway stood another tall man with glasses, behind him peeked two young, boyish faces and a female redhead. The one with glasses had a frown on his face, while he glared at the brown cled man on the edge of the bed. He went inside and was about to close the door in the face of the green cled Camorrista, when a blond man put his foot in between. Talbot froze and his gaze travelled up the brown and neat trousers, until it rested on Ronnie Shiottos face. Then he looked away, while the man with a small nudge of his shoe, sent the door flying open and hit the wall with a thud. The doctor seemed to be a little at unease, but kindly showed the group inside. Maiza rose. Firo would have rushed to Peter, when Chez grabbed his sleeve and janked it backward, forcing the other to a halt.

\- Calm yourself.

The boy's voice was unusually stern and with an underlying tone of care somewhere. The young man gave his interference a puzzled look, he only rolled his eyes. By now another had made his way to the bed. Talbot. The man looked over the one in the bed and nodded to himself. He turned around by the prying eyes in his back and met Chez stern face. The “older” immortal seemed to follow the boys train of thoughts and turned to the others.

\- Let’s leave for a while.

\- What, but!...

\- His right Firo.

Said man gave his former superior a pleading look, but when he saw Ennis and even Ronnie nod, he gave up and the group left the room. The doctor's face unraveled his emotion of pensive. Then he realized the boy was still in the room. He only answered the look with a nod and by sitting down on the edge of the bed. Peter smiled to himself and then thankfully at Chez. The boy's face was much graver and the doctor cleared his throat.

\- Mr Martins, even though you're resurrecting immortality, it seems as the activities you've been through have taken its toll on your body.

The man in question's gaze shot to the left arm and when he once again tried to get it to move, it still failed. Chez stared from the doctor to Peter and back. Peter began to turn pale as memories flooded back into his consciousness. The 12 years old boy scooted closer and put a hand on Peters and squeezed as the white haired young man began to hyperventilate. The doctor shot to his feets and gave the kid one look. Somehow he interpreted the child matur, or experienced enough to handle the situation for a second. So the dark haired man ran out the room, to get some sedatives and painkillers in case the patient began to trach around. He wasn’t gone for long but during this time Peter and Chez had a little chat.

\---

Out in the waiting room the group of peoples had split into two camps. In other words, Talbot against Martillos, with Maiza somewhere in the middle.

\- Please for once, can you cooperate? Do you guys know what happened to Peter?

Four pairs of eyes stared at the man with glasses. Firo glanced at Maiza who had a smile in the corner of his mouth. Victor on the other hand glanced at Ronnie, who leaned against the wall, next to the cough that Ennis sat on. The demon leered at the immortal. There wasn’t any other person in the waiting room for now and that was quite good. The matters they were discussing were not for every ear to hear. Victor was onto something when he shifted his attention to the blond though and soon all the others looked at him too. Ronnie sighted, but did stop himself in time to not lit a cigarette in the room. After all it was a medical clinic and you should not smoke in such an environment. With his elbows he pushed himself off the wall and took some lazy steps towards the center of the room. Firo sat down beside Ennis who was squirming a bit, she was uncomfortable with the situation. She could only imagine what could have happened to the young immortal. Victor began tapping his foot in impatience and Maiza put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him to sit down in a chair. After they were all seated, the non- human looked at them, something in his eyes had changed.

\- I guess she is a daughter of the Walkens.

The other flinched and Maiza was about to rush back into the room to watch out for Chez and Peter. This time it was Victor who took hold of his former friends arm and kept him in place. Eventually getting him to sit down.

\- Maybe it's more right to say a perfect fusion and product of Stanfield and Laforet?

Pondered the blond, totally without reading the mood. Maiza janked himself free from Talbot, at the same moment Firo shot to his feets and Dr “Fred” runned out into the waiting room, hurrying down another corridor. They gave each other a short look, before Firo and Maiza began to sprint down the opposite corridor.

\- Ronnie make them stop!

Ennis' voice rang out in the almost silent building.

And time did stop.

Ennis' mouth still half open, while she leaned forward. Talbot still with an outstretched hand, Firo flyed in the air. Maiza had one feet on the ground and Dr “Fred” was the only one able to move. Said man was way too occupied with his job to notice the paranormal state of the situation. The blond allowed the readhead to close her mouth, Firo to land and Maiza to take a more solid position. He looked from one to the other and he eventually let Ennis move on her own. She smiled thankfully and gave a glance at the clock, Ronnie red her thoughts and gave a nod. The red haired woman runned past the two other Camorristas and towards Peter's room.

When she arrived, the white cled, dark haired man also came to the door. They looked at each other and he wearily looked back at the waiting room. Ennis waved him off and was about to put her hand on the handle, when the doctor stopped her and put a finger over his lips, subtle pointing at the door.

\---

The small hands took hold of his face, the brown eyes fixed on the wide open dark grey, almost black eyes. A small boy bit his lip and the other closed his eyes and held his breath. After six seconds, he let it out for seven seconds, then took a new one, the inhale lasting four seconds. He repeated the exercise a few times and then he opened his eyes. Still looking into the young eyes who held the depths of eternity in them.

\- How long has it been?

The boy bit down harder on his lip, eventually putting up four fingers in the air. The others eyes widened again.

\- In a dark room… you…

The boy tilted his head, but when the other didn’t continue, Chez didn’t force him to. Peter wet his lips and took another deep breath, held it, breathed out.

\- Who? Where?

The white haired gulped, his mouth going dry and his mind muddled.

\- Mr Talbot, staircase… in a garbage bag.

Chez gripped the others hands and fixed his eyes on him as he began to shake again.

\- Wh-... What a great Christmas gift.

Peter was shuckling! At least he tried to make a joke as a defense mechanisme most sertainly. He felt the squeeze on his hand and the shuckles subseded as he ducked his head. Suddenly they both looked at each other and then the door. Peter put a finger in front of his lips, still the boy called out and carefully Ennis opened the door. Dr “Fred” looked in quite the shock at the calm man on the bed and then his gaze traveled to the boy. Ennis smiled knowingly and went closer, still sensitive to the both males' reactions. The medical professional put away the needles after judging his patient's state as calm and painless. The doctor gave a pained smile and gave his last information.

\- Your arm will be oversensitive… and lame... and I am not sure if it will ever recover.

\---

The minute hand began to spin.

Ronnie stared at it.

Talbot brung his arm to himself.

Firo looked around, finding Maizas puzzled look.

Then all of them looked at Ronnie. The blond just shrugged his shoulder and began walking down the corridor towards Peter’s room. One last look at each other and then the Camorristas sprinted down the aisle. The steps from the third man was a weird mix of bad and good anticipation. There was a lot of force and energy harvest in the motion and the connection to the ground was filled with static. He was anticipating to look at his subordinate, at the same time he didn’t want to look caring in front of all these people he disgusted. Emotions and thoughts in a turmoil. By the time he was at the door, all the others were already in the room. Dr “Fred” had gotten extra chairs. Ronnie chose to stand and Ennis sat beside Chez on the bed. The police sat down on a chair far from his former friend and the other criminals. He looked at the only other, somewhat non- criminal in the room, he only handed him the report. The silence settled, until one after one left the room. First Firo, Ennis and Chezlaw, then Ronnie. Then Maiza and lastly Victor. The two remaining males looked after them as the last bespectacled man carefully closed the door.

\- Despite all your lucky.

The older gave a rare smile and also left the room, leaving the immortal dwelling in that warmth.


	12. SideChapter III: The Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly based on Light novel 5- 2001 The Children of Bottle. 
> 
> Nile is named after the Nile river in Egypt and call himself King (2001- The Children of Bottle, page about Nile), therefore Ben calls him Ramses.  
> Ben(jamin) is Jewish and have traveled with Nile for a long time, making them close. Therefore Nile calling him Moses, the adoptive brother of Ramses.

**SideChapter III: The Hydra.**

At Lamia- 1970’s.

 _Report on_ _(Blacked out word)_ _hectic meeting, which was a private initiative, also behind closed doors, based on wiretapping and cameras belonging to the (Blacked out word)_ _._ _Read and written by_ _(Blacked out word)_ _in_ _(Blacked out word)_ _staff. "I promise and swear on my honor and conscience that I did not attend the meeting-_ _(Blacked out word)_ _._ _(Blacked out word)_ _/5/1976._

 _(Blacked out word)_ _: I have gathered you here today to discuss_ _(Blacked out word)_ _or more specifically_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. I have the strongest suspicions that_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and his "scientists" have embarked on a_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. After the events_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and_ _(Blacked out word)_ _, he has apparently withdrawn, but I tell you, such a man withdraws only to take charge. That is why I want us to have a_ _(blacked out word)_ _when we leave this locked room, colleagues. (Blacked out word)_ _will see that my unit in the_ _(Blacked out word)_ _does not give in to the_ _(Blacked out word)_ _, but intends to fight as much, if not more than our other (blacked out word)_ _colleagues. So let's begin._

_Rumor has it… -_

_(Blacked out word)_ _: Excuse me, (Blacked out word)_ _, but rumors?_

 _(Blacked out word)_ _: Let me finnish_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. Rumor has it that two_ _(Blacked out word)_ _children have caused problems._

 _(Blacked out word)_ _: That_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and_ _his_ _gang?_

 _(Blacked out word)_ _: Not likely, look at this._

 _*_ _(Blacked out word)_ _takes out a cassette and puts it in a projector. A movie starts playing. Two children can be seen on the_ _(Blacked out word)_ _screen, the approximately 6-year-old girl_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and the teenage boy_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. Someone tremblingly points a_ _(Blacked out word)_ _at them. The woman with the_ _(Blacked out word)_ _shakes and looks terrified. She_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. Now comes the (Blacked out word)_ _of all_ _, the girl (Blacked out word)_ _quickly_ _to avoid the_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and the boy extends his hand as if he wants to be_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. The next second he holds up an_ _(Blacked out word)_ _hand with a small_ _(Blacked out word)_ _in the middle of the palm. When he opens and closes his hand,_ _the (Blacked out word) to his fingers_ _. It strikes me that he must have_ _(Blacked out word)_ _!_

_(Blacked out word) turns off the projector and looks at his two employees. *_

_(Blacked out word)_ _: Not_ _(Blacked out word)_ _gang._ _(Blacked out word)_ _._

_Link to attachment at the bottom of the page._

_***_

  
  


_*Attachment*_

_Report by_ _(Blacked out word)_ _on_ _(Blacked out word)_ _one of the_ _remaining (Blacked out word)_ _from_ _(Blacked out word)_ _._ _(Blacked out word)_ _/5 / 1975._

 _I met_ _(Blacked out word)_ _in_ _(Blacked out word)_ _. He did not seem jubilantly happy to meet me, but after I quickly threw together a fictional story about my own life over the past_ _(Blacked out word)_ _, he was finally ready to talk about his time._

 _He had followed every conflict and strife he heard of. I guess we all process and handle our_ _(Blacked out word)_ _differently. Unlike_ _(Blacked out word)_ _, at least_ _(Blacked out word)_ _seems to have a reasonably clean flour in the bag. Or he has not told me everything. However, he told (Blacked out word)_ _about one, according to him_ _(Blacked out word)_ _man. I did not think so about_ _(Blacked out word)_ _, rather about_ _(Blacked out word)_ _in that case, but what can I say? I will not probably meet_ _(Blacked out word)_ _in a few_ _(Blacked out word)_ _and then his (Blacked out word) soldier will be dead since (Blacked out word)_ _._

 _In summary,_ _(Blacked out word)_ _has become an old, exhausted man, quite different from how he was (Blacked out word) years ago. Apparently he tries to feel (Blacked out word) on battlefields where others (Blacked out word) their (Blacked out word). But when I think about it, (Blacked out word)._

Huey closed his fingers on the vibrating and angrily ringing telephone handset. From the banana-shaped piece of plastic came chatting and indistinct sounds when the short man put it to his ear.

\- Take it one more time, slowly.

It became quiet on the other side of the phone. Huey sighed loudly and waited. Still silence.

\- You wanted to tell me something.

Silence again, Huey began to drum with his finger and a little girl looked up from her seat on the floor. Carefully she stood up and looked with big blue eyes at the phone and the curly cord that connected it to the handset resting against her master's ear. She took a step forward, but screamed out in pain when she got cramps in one of her legs. She collapsed sobbing on the floor and a door slammed into the wall when a man in a lab coat hurried into the room. Laforet had put a hand over the handset to shut out the man on the other side of the line. The man in the lab coat and strange pilot glasses swept up the little one in his arms and gently rolled up her trouser leg. After a while of inspecting and when Salome felt his master's gaze in his back, he gave his diagnosis.

\- Growing pains.

\- Be sure to fix it before the next mission.

\- Yes, Master Laforet.

Salome mumbled to the girl in his arms.

\- I think it's time for an afternoon nap, right X?

The girl nodded and looked at her "father" with her big blue eyes. The scientist and guardian carefully adjusted the child in his arms before opening the door and disappearing down the corridor.

\- Well, what did you want?

Huey raised his eyebrows a little. He had not planned this, but of course, when you thought about it, everything fell into place. So his little Benjamin had gotten a travel companion and not just anyone. Huey almost smiled. Everything really went his way right now. If only X was adjusted a little more and Salome might be able to do something about Y's mood, they could soon start their plan. The only question was what he would do with Benjamin. Huay looked around as he pondered, it might be interesting to study Benjamin interacting with Nile, moreover, he was not in a hurry to get him back. He could be spared for a few years and the curiosity about the surprising adrenaline duo, or couple? in any case, it was a deep dive into philosophy.

\---

A little lamp glowed as the sun was setting. A little red lamp indicating someone making a call inside a glass telephone booth. The man inside put back the handset and stepped out into the smoke and echoes of alarm. Another man sitting on the remains of a stair some meters away waited for his friend to finnish. It was surprising that the empty glass building and its wires and invisible connections, was still working when the rest of the city was empty. The fires had seized, soldier on both sides had left, but the civilians was still to claim the damaged buildings as theirs again. The two men was with other words alone as the sun disappeared behind the jarred and uneven skyline. Still awaiting lingering enemy soldiers, the light skinned sat down beside the other. He on the other hand leaned back, stretched and shifted on the grainy surface. Before lazily resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The shorter man shifted himself and leant against some non- fragmented wall, looking at Nile. 

\- So what now?

A blow of air though the brown nose, the one with a broken, convex nose rolled his eye. Suddenly remembering something he turn his eyepatch upside down and fixed both his eyes on the man named after a river. 

\- Where were you just about some days ago, you disappeared. 

\- None of your business.

\- Fine, so what now?

Nile was quiet, Ben grew impatient and rose, staring down on the dark skinned. 

\- Do you want to keep having my back?

\- You know my answer.

\- I thought you didn’t like immortals?

\- Ben, we have tagged along for a decade now.

Ben sat down again, flipping the leather piece back in place. It was almost too dark to see each other any longer and they should probably go to sleep. When the sun rose the next day, they should try to catch a boat or plane back to America, or wherever they were heading next. 

\- Honestly, why are we hanging out?

Nile raised an eyebrow, looking disbelieving at Ben, while the later waved his hands as it would help the other to think. 

\- I guess you make me feel like I’m mortal and more prone to death through your survival skills. 

\- I guess you make me feel alive and immortal through reminding me that death exist.

They looked at each other before Ben began to laugh. Nile smiled a little. 

\- Good night Moses.

\- Night Ramses. 

  
  



	13. Information

Just some plans so you know.

Chapter dates from today (12/12- 2020).  
12/12- 2020.  
18/12- 2020.  
25/12- 2020.  
31/12- 2020.  
1/1- 2021.

By 1/1- 2021- A man named Peter (Before 2010) should be "finnished".

18/1- 2021 EDITING Before 2010! Keep an Eye out for updates and minor or more major changes in any of the chapters.

From April 2021 I MAY begin to put out chapters for A man named Peter (After 2010), depending on how finnished I am by then. Otherwise I shall begin to upload A man named Peter (After 2010) in August 2021. (Is the plan...)

Thank you all for checking out my first more than less finnished fanfic.  
Feel free to leave comments.


	14. SideChapter IIII: One of the first girls he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scusa- My excuses, excuse me, sorry- Italian (Google translate).  
> Moglie- Madame- Italian (Google translate).   
> Voi- You- Italian (Google translate).  
> Si- Yes- Italian (Google translate).

**Side chapter IIII: One of the first girls he loved.**

Italy- 1979.

_ A short backstory to Angelica (da Florenco) by Maiza Avaro 2014, interviewer Nelly Smalls for the Daily Days.  _

_ Angelica? How on earth do you know about her? Ah, you just know the name and want to know more? I guess ... Well, it can't hurt afterwards, right? I'm waffling, my excuses.  _

_ Angelica is not a human, she was created to serve, but she was disobedient and fled. Eventually, she came back to Florence and a restaurant. There she stayed, after actually finding someone worth serving. When I came back there once upon a time, I made her a promise. What promise? I don't want to talk about that, shouldn’t we talk about Angelica, not me? Her master died and she moved to America. I think you know the rest of the story? Very good and now, if you excuse me I have to go.  _

  
  


Czeslaw looked up at Maiza who was a bit tense with excitement. They walked on the cobblestones and tried to blend in with the tourists. Some of these stones, maybe, were as old as the immortals, if not younger. Maiza looked around at the old, nowaday historical towers, churches, and warehouses. The man was in his own thoughts when someone ran into him. Czheslaw's gaze fell on the girl who dropped two large cardboard bags of vegetables on the street. Yellow papricas, green cucumbers, two sallat heads and some bright red tomatoes rolled unto the street. Maiza immediately leaned down to help pick up the vegetables.

\- Scusa, let me help you pick it up. 

The girl looked up at him, a shiver ran through her body and she was about to drop her bags again.

\- Avaro!? 

Czeslaw stared at her and then Maiza. The later searched through his memories and eventually came to a fusion of face, name and identity. Maizas smile became even brighter and he embraced the dark-haired girl. 

\- Scusa Maiza, but the vegetables have to go to the kitchen.

Maiza, gave her a look and then he grabbed Czes and one of the bags. The three helped each other to carry the bags while they hurried to a street corner. They went in through a green painted wooden door at the back and a woman came straight up to the girl. Rapidly and firmly she said something in Italian and the younger female hurried off to the refrigerators and pots. Maiza and Czheslaw stood in the doorway and looked bewildered. Scent of rich tomato sauces and pan- fried meat and vegetables, the sound of boiling water and shopping knives, old lamps spread warm, but clear light over the work desks and ovens. The only one in the kitchen, except the newcomers and the girl, turned to them and then her subordinate. 

\- Angelica I didn’t think that you would fall for a man who already has children! 

This caused all three to blush and stop with what they were doing. Chez noticed how the two young grown ups blushed some more than him, at least that was what he thought. Maiza glanced at Angelica, who shyly glanced back. 

\- Moglie, this is Chez, my cousin, I am Maiza. 

Maiza put an arm around the younger's shoulders and he tried his hardest not to shrug them off. The woman dried her hands on the apron and shook Maizas hand and patted Chez on the chin. Angelica couldn't help but cover her mouth when she saw the glint of impatiens and annoyance in the boy's eyes. Suddenly they heard steps by the door leading out into the restaurant. The four people looked that way and saw an old, white haired man, with kind wrinkles and round glasses. He looked strikingly similar to Geppetto, the woodcarver in Pinocchio. The old man tilted his head, but smiled when his eyes fell on the two males who now sat on a chair each in the kitchen. But as realization dawned on him, he turned pale. Maiza quickly rose and pushed his chair to the woman, who quickly sat her master down in it. Angelica also hurried over to him, but the face he gave her made her back away. The other grown up man, silently opened his arms and Angelica went over to him and let him embrace her. Before he knew it even Chez was tightly pressed against his friends and fellow immortals chest. The now quite frightening old man stood up and pointed at Maiza. 

\- Voi. VOi! VOI! 

His female cook took hold of him, hushing. He seemed to calm himself, when more and more memories came back to him. 

\- Maiza, Maiza Avaro, if I’m not mistaken?

\- Si.

Chez untangled himself from the other and Angelica peaked at her superior. 

\- May you be a signor Valentino?

\- Florenco.

\- Can someone explain what's going on?

The elderly woman cut in and looked with a stern stare on the two men, her fists at her hips. Her voice was more like a mother scolding her children after hearing a vase shatter on the ground. Angelica glanced at Chez, the boy only shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t even know who this girl was, any less the man or the relationship between almost anybody in the room. The elderly woman tapped her foot and the man motioned to Maiza to begin. The tall brunet cleared his throat and blushed a little. 

\- Signor Florenco, former Valentino, is a descendant to my family's masterchef. 

The young girl stared at the old man, before quickly looking away, blushing from her rudeness. Suddenly a clock rang and the two women hurried to the ovens and pots. Maiza slowly relaxed, thinking himself saved to further explain anything. Chez quietly nodded towards the green backdoor, when the female masterchef turned around, while stirring the pot. 

\- Continue signor Avaro. 

The two males stopped like a deer in the headlight and the girl snickered and rolled her eyes. Then turning pink when the bespectacled man did continue. 

\- Me and Angelica met in Lotto Valentino in… I believe…

Maiza trailed off when he tried to remember when he met her. 

\- 1709.

\- Right, sorry Angie. 

Chez almost shut down. The tall man he knew rarely used nicknames. Sure he had had one or two partners, but, no, just no. Said man seemed to have realized his words, when he looked around at a boy who looked almost disgusted and very confused, heard the cracks from knuckles, a raised, grey female eyebrow and a blushing beauties face. Maiza quickly took hold of some pot holders and lifted off a saucepan and emptied the pasta and boiling water into the colander. Instinctively closing his eyes when the hot steem hit his face and fogged his glasses. Some light and a bit high pitched giggles jingled in the hot kitchen. The now as good as blind man felt someone taking off his glasses and when his vision returned, he saw the wavy haired girl cleaning his glasses on her apron. He smiled at her as she stood on her toes to reach up and put his glasses back on. To steady her, he held her waist. Strangely enough none of them seemed to think of just handing the other the glasses and putting them on themself. 

\- Weeeell, when is the wedding?

\- Hopefully before my death.

Joked the old man back to his loyal subordinate. She smiled and shook her head, beginning to lay up some pasta on plates. 

\- And when is yours gonna be?

Came Angelica's answer as she knowingly looked from one to the other of the elderly peoples. Chez who had recently received an invitation to Firo and Ennis wedding, glanced at Maiza. What he knew it was quite normal that the best man, or maid of honor did was the next to marry. Either each other or someone else. The boy who didn’t want to think of “losing” another immortal friend, went to crack some eggs over the pasta, as he saw the woman hurriedly spread pancetta on the mountains of pasta on the blue and white plates. The woman smiled down on him and it struck Angelica that she probably had hoped to marry signore Florenco for a long time and maybe, maybe get a child on her own. Maybe that was why the little restaurant business was more of a family business than anything else. Roberto Florenco wasn’t the employer, he was the man in the house, the father and life partner. Maddalena wasn’t just the female head chef, she was also a mother and a life partner. Angelica herself was not just an employee, she was a beloved and respected daughter. Come to think about it, that was why she had stayed in all these generations. She had felt at home, she had felt as one in the family. A full worthy and irreplaceable family member. They both had. Her eyes met Maddalenas. 

\- S- sorry.

The girl shyly folded in on herself, when she got embraced by strong, female arms. A warm chest and a little chubby body pressed against her. The scent of sunshine, ripe tomatoes, oregano and sea salt filled her nostrils as she buried her face in the covering apron and the warmth. The older one patted her on the dark, wavy hair and Chez shyly glanced at them, Maiza laughed a little and went to give the boy a loose hug. Roberto looked at the two pairs, shook his head and stretched out his arms, gathering them all in one big family hug.


	15. Chapter 5: How to NOT crash a wedding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding at Alveare. Alveare means ruckus. A ruckus at a wedding at Alveare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers/ Canon event. Firo and Ennis get's married. 
> 
> Konechno on- Of course he is- Russian (Google translate).

**_Chapter X: How to NOT crash a wedding._ **

Somewhere, sometime- 1980.

_ Hello, did you miss me? _

  
  


Only one eyebrow was visibly raising, or maybe it was only one who rose to begin with? Either way the owner of said eyebrow blinked. Why was Christopher talking to Rail? Where were Chi and where were Frank?

The two homunculus walked down the corridor, turning a corner, Ben hurried after them. 

\- Hey guys, what's up?

Christopher made a very big, very sharp grin, all of his pointy teeths at display. 

\- We're going to a wedding! I wonder what pretty flowers they have, even though every flower is pretty-

\- What wedding?

Ben heaved a sigh at the talk active redhead and turned to the blond boy with stitches all over like a scarecrow. 

\- Some friend to Christopher is getting married and I will tag along 'couse I'm bored. 

Rail explained. Ben glanced back at the tall, extravagant dressed man, who tilted his head, but eventually got the brunets intention.

\- His name is Firo.

The man with an eyepatch blinked, mouth agape, that was before it turned into a little smirk.

\- May I follow?

Ben aggressively shoke away the wine red blazer arm around his shoulders, when he felt the weight, he needed to clear his head.

  
  


\---

While the extra extravagant dressed man and the for once at least a little bit more dressed up boy, more or less runned around the dancehall causing confusion, Ben stood by a tall table with a glass of sparkling champagne. Unusually sweet champagne he noticed. He stared through the glass and saw something green blueish like aruba blue through the sparkling drink. He looked to his right and saw something much more shamrock green. The preteen glared back. Ben switched his attention to the little girl who walked up to him, taking his outstretched hand. Big blue eyes looked up on him, a bit mournfully he smiled down at X, he just couldn’t lift her and let her rest against his side and on his hip. His green eye scanned the room, searching for somewhere to sit down the 6 years old. When he did find a couch he nodded towards Y to follow as he held his champagne glass in one hand and X little hand in the other. As he advanced towards the furniture he walked past the groom and newly husband. 

\- Congratulations Firo.

The Camorrista turned around at the pat on his shoulder and the greeting. Ennis glanced at her husband as he stiffened, Ben nodded, took a steadier grip of the girls hand and continued on his way. Firo didn’t had much more time to think of the stranger, when someone far from a stranger came up to him.

\- No hat Firo?

\- You made it!

Firo gave him a hug and Peter gave Ennis a loose embrace. 

\- What did Talbot say?

Maiza who had of course already congratulated the bridal couple, came up to them again, before shaking hand with Peter. The cop shuckled, giving all the information the others needed. 

\- Speaking of him, he sure wounder where you and Czes been up to in the latest. 

\- Found Maizas old girlfriend.

\- Czes! 

The three other grown ups looked at the fourth one and the “boy”, a little smirk in Peters face. 

\- Which one?

\- Maiza!?

\- Angelica… Well, thank you guys.

As Maiza hurried after the dark haired Italian beauty, the others stared after them. Czes shrugged and seemed to be debating with himself if he should follow Maiza or stay with Ennis, in the end he chose to advance towards the bar. On his way he almost stumbled over someone sitting on the floor. Someone with a lavish wine red blazer in 18th century stile and ruffles at the throat and wrists. Czes paid him no greater heed, just noticing the flower petals scattered around him as he carefully ripped them of the small bouquet he held in his hands. 

By the bar counter sat Ronnie chatting with one of the bartenders as another dark haired beauty made herself known. Ronnie felt the piercing, cold eyes in his back and with a glance on the bartender he knew that he also could feel the aura the person behind him radiated. 

\- A glass of Absolute Vodka, please. 

\- You remembered.

Ronnie knew that it was not hard at all to figure that the quite nationalistic woman would be pleased by such a iconic drink of her motherland. But he couldn’t help himself, he skipped his comment to savour the compliment. Anne sat down, getting her clear, but intoxicating liquid. She had chosen her poison and she had chosen her murderer. 

\- How’s Sylvie?

\- Not exactly pleased.

\- No? I think she should be grateful for being in the spotlight again for the time that your away. 

Anne rolled her light grey eyes and sipped on her drink while she gazed out over the room. A young teenager with gruesome scars in his face heaving up a mountain of food on a plate, over in a corner Maiza apparently tried to talk to someone. She looked to the right seeing Firo and Ennis talking to guests, she waved and they actually noticed and waved back. But Anne had been away a bit too long and had indeed been more of a Gandor girl than a Martillo Madame and therefore they both felt this divide and the awkwardness of greeting anymore than they had. Anne knew that they understood her wave as a sign of her congratulations and good wishes. She quickly turned her gaze to the left where a guy on one of the couch sat with a little baby girl sleeping on his lap and a boy trying to not fall asleep. Her attention went back to the man by her side. She took another sip of the transparent drink. 

\- I didn’t knew Firo invited you?

\- No, I did. 

Czes raised an eyebrow at the blonds initiativ but let it slip, he knew that Ronnie sometimes took some liberties. The thing he couldn’t understand was why he had chosen Anne, no offence. He jumped up on one of the barstools, the other two couldn’t help but cover their mouths at his slight struggle. When he was finally seated and had a glass in his hand he cleared his throat and said.

\- You know he’s here right?

He glanced down in the blood red, fruity drink and nodded towards where Maiza had now left whoever it was he was talking with in the corner before and now he was talking to Peter. Anne followed his subtle hint. 

\- Konechno on.

The words coming out low and bitter as a curse. But the one knowing this Russian singer would know she, despite her tough appearance and actions would almost never use a swearword. The reason was not her Ladyness, but the memories she carried. The only one who would possibly bring her to the edge was her so called brother. Regarding that it was her brother she and Czes were discussing, it could have been a curse, but the proper translation would be “of course he is”. As she glared his way her eyes turned almost as dark as her targets eyes. Ronnie put a hand on her shoulder. She may be immortal, that did not mean she couldn’t get intoxicated. The demon suspected that his friend was getting a bit too much like the murderer in this scenario and that was not what he wanted. After all it was Firo and Ennis wedding and those wedding crashers were enough disturbance as it was. Ronnie smiled to himself as he looked out over the room, there was surprisingly many peoples he did not know or only knew slightly, which in other words could not have been invited to the wedding by the bridal couple. But after all, what could you expect at a wedding at the Alveare with immortals, who through the centuries could have made so very many contacts. 

\- Ronnie, your still clenching my shoulder and rumours will spread if people see marks. 

He quickly withdraw his hand from the smooth, pale skin, but he kept looking out over the crowd and chaos in the hall. Anne and Czes did the same. 

  
  



	16. Chapter 6: A peak at the past and a peak at the future.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird format, my computer is not helpful this New Years Eve :(  
> Dots ("*") should be hythens (-).   
> Instead of "Chapter X", it should be "Chapter 6".   
> I Think you get it. Will edit it later when my computer decides to work as it should. 
> 
> Happy New Year anyway and hope you enjoy.

**_Chapter X: A peak at the past and a peak at the future._ **

New York- 2003.

_ She had _ e  _ missed quite a bit and we were appearntly in for a ride in the next century. - Ronni Shiotto about Rosetta. 2015.  _

  
  


The blond man didn't really know how to greet the young woman. They were the same being, probably created at the same time, even though none of them remembered. Still the two blondes had never talked with each other in almost 2500 years. Ronnie wet his lips, Rosetta's fingers nervously ran around on the table's surface. Dipping down in every creak, following every line and tapping on every bump. Ronnie heaved a sigh and Rosetta leaned in. That was when the Martillo's chiamatore began telling the true, if bizarre, tale about the events of 1935. 

The minute hand traveled its steady rhythm and the hour hand followed suite. Ronnie was about to leave when the other demon took hold of his brown blazer, he stopped. Rosetta nodded at the table again and Ronnie had a puzzled look on his face.

  * Let me return the favor, Mr Shiotto.



Ronnie or the Martillos, come to think about it none he knew needed information about the past. Then it struck him. The future! Of course, Rosetta had as almost any other formerly complete homunculus chosen the ability to see into the future, giving up most of her ability to alter the world as the price for her freedom from the bottle she was trapped in. Well, the future was absolutely something to reconsider, especially now when they were living in a new century. A century who seemed to evolve into something so very different than the once before it. 

  * If you insist.



Ronnie pulled out the chair for the woman before sitting down himself. Said woman seemed to be thinking about what to tell and the other non-human fought the urge to read her mind. A little smirk appeared on her face as she saw his struggles but she eventually settled for a piece of information. 

  * There is a young policeman who will be important about ten years into the future. Take good care of him and he will take good care of you.
  * Excuse me?



She only shrugged her shoulders, her scarf sliding down, exposing dark skin. Ronnie leaned back a bit and a package of cigarettes appeared in his hand, he held it out for his guest, who thankfully chose one of them. He lit the cigarettes, took a deep breath and tried to think about the information. Or riddle, riddle for certain. Rosetta could se into the future and if you cept that into your mind the last sentence gets interesting. " Take good care of him and he will take good care of you". Meaning, Rosetta had seen a future were he Ronnie or the Martillos in its whole, was indeed good to this policeman. She had not seen what would happen if he got mistreated or ignored. Even though, Ronnie knew that whatever they chose to do, Rosetta's sense of future would automatically adjust to the new future created. 

When he looked up again she was gone and his cigarette package with her. 

  
  



	17. SideChapter V: Unlikely friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE! More or less. 
> 
> Sorry for the format, my computer don't want this.   
> Remember: * = -.
> 
> Editing will appear later in January and until Mars/April. The second part of the story (A man named Peter After 2010) will begin to be uploaded around April or at the latest in August. 
> 
> Thank you everybody to have read my story for so long! <3 Stay tuned and check in now and again to see if I have changed, edited anything. 
> 
> Let's hope 2021 is going to be better :)

**Side Chapter V: Unlikely friends.**

Canada 2010’s.

_ The art of walking through fire and resurrect from ice. _ _   
_ __   
  


It was not the coldest winter she had faced, still it was Quebec. The dark haired young woman stood under a streetlight, waiting to hitchhike with someone trustworthy. Something actually not that impossible in Canada. In the darkness of the winter night came someone into view. First thing you noticed about him was his cigarette which glowed, long before the face became visible in the light from the streetlight. Then came the blond hair and the classy but old fashioned brown blazer and neat trousers. When he tilted his head up, meeting her eyes, she rolled them. Still a mild smile adorning her flushed face.

  * Mr Shiotto, what a pleasure. 



Her voice was honest, without the mocking or seductive underlying tone she usually used when talking to men, or anybody for that matter. The man tilted his hat as a greeting, before a new cigarette appeared in his hand. He handed her the semi solid stick and a lighter appeared in the same manner. She leant forward and he lit her cigarette. 

  * So what’s your doing here?
  * Business. 



Answered the man, she crooked an eyebrow and kept her gaze on him. He let out a cloud of hot, water and smoke mixed air into the stillness, she did the same. Eventually Ronnie butted his cigarette and turned to Anne. She still kept an eye on the road, in case of a friendly driver or she just didn’t want to look him in the eyes. 

  * What’s your doing yourself?



He asked, she gave him a look that said that he had better and more effective ways to get that information. He actually nudged her in the side with his elbow. As snow began to fall Anne thought to herself that he had not answered her question properly, Ronnie had instead answered vaguely and avoiding further explanation through asking a question himself. She flicked her collar, her shoulders tensed a bit and her mind shifted from present problems to memories of a long, long time gone era returned to her memory. Upon seeing his smoking companions absent gaze turn dreamy, Ronnie’s interest peaked like a Pointer who feels the scent of prey. ( _ Pointer- a hunting dog who doesn't run after the prey, but stands in an iconic “pointing” position AN) _ . Childhood memories. Memories of a house that survived the surfdooms abolition in the late 19th century. Memories of chandeliers made out of solid gold, gowns adorned with precious stones, portraits of ancient relatives in heavy frames on the walls. Said walls wallpapered with thick textures in rich naval blue, crimson and emerald. Warm coats lined with real ermine fur and deep hoods. Gloves and pretty boots made of calf leather. Glistening snow on top of the roof to the big mansion and resting peacefully on the well-managed tree branches and the high fence. Big, roaring fires, roasted chestnuts, expensive chocolate, nuts and dried fruits, as well as fresh fruit. Glü wine made out of genuine and superbe Italian wine, genuine beeswax candles. The horses steaming in the cold after a hunt, the Borzois still overexcited, jumping around, barking and howling. ( _ Borzois was only for the nobel back in those days. Only the Tsar Family and the richest/most noble families were allowed/able to own them AN _ ). Without knowing, Anne had begun walking, right unto the street. A roar tore through the night and the headlights from a racing and sliding car blinded the dreaming former Russian noblesse. Ronnie got her on time and teleported them to a totally other scenery. 

  * You seem to be the Anastasia who survived.



Ronnie philosophized, he had of course followed her trail of thoughts as if he was looking at a movie. 

  * Not only survived, gained immortal life.



She corrected him, lifting her shin and looking down on Ronnie. Soon looking away though, you can’t fool yourself to be superior to someone like Ronnie for too long. The Romanov looked around on the new scenery. Chinatown, NYC. 

  * Is there something you need to tell me?



The blond was quiet but gestured to her to follow, hesitantly she did. It had been a time since she was in the neighboorhood, at the same time if even the newspapers were writing about it and now were not talking the Daily Days, but the World and other New York based newspapers. When the demon held the door she stopped in her tracks, shaking her head. Ronnie solved it quickly by teleporting them and standing in front of the door. People inside Alveare turned heads. Maiza rose, Anne gave him a disbelieving stare, she bowed her head slightly, barely noticeable when Don Molsa appeared by the bespectable man. Taking a more confident stance she asked once again.

  * Is there something you need to tell me?



Still silence, while Don Molsa gestured towards the hidden stair in the back of the hall. The three Camorristas and the woman slowly advanced towards it, walking upstairs in silence. Maiza opened the door to the Don’s office and a chair was pulled out for the lady and the Don of the Martillo family. Even though the restaurant hadn’t change drastically, keeping that classic, charming even, atmosphere, the offices on the second floor was modern, with flourishing lights and thin screened computers, many laptops too. Molsa closed his laptop and looked straight at Anne, who cathed on and stared back. 

  * Talbot and company is busy.
  * I figured.



A dry smile on the red lips. 

  * Why are you and Gandors on his side?
  * How did you know?
  * Luck.
  * Why do you think he contacted Europe?
  * Some crazy immortal?



The smile faded when noone else was smiling. Her eyes widened and her mouth slowly opened. Then she began to shake her head, but eventually she seemed to have calmed down and being able to think a little bit clearer. Ronnie had studied her almost like the one they were indirectly talking about did with the whole world. His experiment. Maiza looked weary, Anne almost had the urge to laugh. 

  * So it’s practically everyone against one?
  * We can’t make it any other way.
  * So whos my bros new best friend?



Maiza flinched and Anne bit her lip, then the man began to laugh! At first Anne had only intended on getting some answers or confirmations about rumours she heard, but otherwise stay out of it. She had measured the events and forces strong and big enough to not get involved with, but then she had begun to get involved and now she knew there was no going back. 

  * He’s actually hanging out quite a lot here, even when it’s not work hours… Or he has a mission were not aware of. 



Anne sat still, the only thing she knew was that her brother had gotten a new colleague. If she took into account the new information she had gathered the last hour, there were some crazy immortal, making Commissary Talbot weary enough to contact someone in Europe to send help. That help must be powerful and if working with Talbot and Martins, not mortal. 

  * I think that is about all we can tell you Miss Roman.
  * I think that is about all I want to know, Don Molsa. 



Ronnie led her out into the restaurant and pulled out a chair, at first Anne pondered the thought of just walking away, but it was dark and cold outside. Alveare was warm, lit with beeswax candles and offered food and drinks. She sat down in the chair and Ronnie sat down across the table, waving at Lia who became a little startled, after all the restaurant was closed and she was about to turn on the alarm. Instead the Asian girl put down the key in her pocket and went up to the couple. 

  * Good evening, what can I offer you?



Anne smiled, it was nice to be back in town, so to say, even though she would rather be at the Gandors than the Martillos. On the other hand it was Martillos who had contact with her brother that she only had heard rumours about in the latest. Also, the Martillo family had Ronnie and even though Anne was not totally over Luck Gandor, she did enjoy Ronnies company. He intrigued her more. They ordered their food, that Lia and Saina thankfully was more than happy to make and soon sat blowing on their steaming pasta. It was not a date, both of them was more than clear about that, if anything it was a warm blanket around you after jumping into a hole in the ice.

Anne lifted the fork, she couldn’t wait any longer. The pasta could have waited though and Anne withdraw as the heat bloomed on her tounge. Ronnie smugly raised an eyebrow and the dark haired glared back. Things had begun to return to normal, from walking through the unknown, later fire, slip through ice into cold water and lastly get enveloped by a blanket and offered food. She looked up from the food and met Ronnies eyes, he looked back. The candle between them flickered, the scent of sweet honey lay heavy in Alveare as usual. It may be a new century and a new decade, but some thing just don’t change. Saina and Lia stood leaning against the counter eating some pasta themself, when Maiza went down from the second floor, the other four in the restaurant looked his way. Saina waved with her fork, before nodding towards the kitschen and Lia hurried away to get the bespectable man a plate of food. After getting his plate like in a school eating hall, he hurried up to the couple. The utensils made a clear resonating sound when he put the plate down to reach for a chair from a neighboring table. It was still quiet and Maiza couldn’t escape the feeling of that he was intruding on something very private. The uncomfortable feeling fled when her eyes chased them away, her red lip shaped in a smile, making the void filled with warmth. She smiled with her eyes closed, Maizas eyes was as usual closed, Saina and Lia was talking to each other and the only one with his attention peaked was Ronnie. He studied the humans once again. Everything and nothing was as usual. 


End file.
